


Bruised

by yong_nari



Category: EXO (Band), K-pop
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - High School, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Bullying, Child Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Friendship, Hurt Kim Jongdae | Chen, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Kim Jongdae | Chen, Kim Jongdae | Chen-centric, No Romance, Not Beta Read, OT12 (EXO), Protection, Protective Kim Minseok | Xiumin, Protective Park Chanyeol, Protective Wu Yifan, Protective Zhang Yixing, Student Byun Baekhyun, Student Huang Zi Tao, Student Kim Jongdae | Chen, Student Kim Jongin | Kai, Student Kim Junmyeon | Suho, Student Kim Minseok | Xiumin, Student Lu Han, Student Oh Sehun, Student Park Chanyeol, Students, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:14:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 28,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26072506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yong_nari/pseuds/yong_nari
Summary: [Trigger Warning - Child Abuse, Bullying]Since the moment he was born, Kim Jongdae has been despised. His father, an alcoholic who is always looking for his next punching bag. His mother, a depressed drug addict who blames Jongdae for everything. When he gets older, it only gets worse. Jongdae is tormented by a group of boys that enjoy the easy pray. Everywhere he goes, he's a target, and Jongdae's just trying to make it out in one piece.Please leave comments letting me know how you like the story! This is my first story, and I love getting the feedback!Cross-posted on AFF.
Comments: 30
Kudos: 72





	1. *Character Profiles*

**Author's Note:**

> I figured I'd throw together a few character profiles so you could see what everyone looks like in my mind (though if you're not satisfied with it, feel free to ignore these). It's just simple stuff like appearance, and all that, though I have changed around some of the ages. For age, I tried to stick to the real line up as much as possible, but I had to narrow the age gap, and there are a few places where, for my vision of the character and their role in the story, I made them older (namely Tao, Lay, and Kris). So yeah, here are the character profiles, even though you won't meet some of them until a few chapters from now.
> 
> Do you need this to understand the story? Not really. Was it really necessary to use so many photos? Absolutely.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own none of the photos. Credit goes fully to the owners.

Name: Kim Jongdae

Age: 17

Height: 173 cm

Hair Color: Black

Distinguishing features: Has several scars (no self harm), most notably a large burn scar across his upper back/shoulder blades.

Photos:

Name: Park Chanyeol

Age: 17

Height: 185 cm

Hair Color: Brown

Photos:

Name: Byun Baekhyun

Age: 17

Height: 174 cm

Hair Color: Blonde

Distinguishing features: Left ear pierced. Sometimes wears eyeliner.

Photos:

Name: Oh Sehun

Age: 17

Height: 181 cm

Hair Color: Blonde

Distinguishing features: Right ear pierced.

Photos:

Name: Do Kyungsoo

Age: 17

Height: 173 cm

Hair Color: Red with a black undercut

(A/N: You guys have no idea the struggle I went through trying to pick this boy's hair color for the story. It literally took me about three days of contemplation before begrudgingly coming to a decision)

Distinguishing features: Ears pierced, usually wears tiny gold hoops (see below).

Photos:

Name: Kim Jongin

Age: 17

Height: 182 cm

Hair Color: Dark brown

Photos:

Name: Kim Junmyeon

Age: 18

Height: 173 cm

Hair Color: Brown

Photos:

Name: Lu Han

Age: 18

Height: 178 cm

Hair Color: Dirty blonde

Distinguishing features: Small scar on lower lip

Photos:

Name: Kim Minseok

Age: 18

Height: 173 cm

Hair Color: Brown

Photos:

Name: Huang Zitao

Age: 18

Height: 183 cm

Hair Color: Blonde, has an undercut

Distinguishing features: multiple ear piercings

Photos:

Name: Zhang Yixing

Age: 22

Height: 177 cm

Hair Color: Black

Distinguishing features: Left ear pierced.

Photos:

Name: Wu Yifan

Age: 20

Height: 187 cm

Hair Color: Dirty blonde

Photos:


	2. *Map*

Don't know if anyone cares, but this is what the house looks like.


	3. Childhood

[ ](https://sovmoney.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/09/darknight.jpg)

_Saturday 2 May 1992_

_Seoul St. Mary’s Hospital, Room 305 – Yeongdeungpo-Gu_

The room’s white walls and floor glint cleanly in the lights, and the ruffle of blue scrubs disrupts the air as doctors bustle about. The crying of two souls can be heard: one muffled and subdued, the other whiny and fresh. Tears glisten in the eyes of the woman on the bed, and her brows furrow in anger. The father is no where in sight, probably off drinking again, not to return home for three more days. 

“Would you like to hold your child?” one doctor asks the woman, presenting the small newborn delicately to her. She merely turns her head away, a small sneer contorting her mouth and distain glinting in her eyes. 

* * *

_Tuesday 15 December 1992_

_Home – Yeongdeungpo-Gu_

From the street, you can see the small window illuminated by a lamp inside the humble dwelling. It is a small house, slightly run down, and in great need of renovations that the current owners will never do. A crash of glass breaking shatters the silence and pierces the night air. Shouts can be heard, a man and a woman screaming at each other. A harsh slap sounds and the yells rise in volume. 

The cries and screams of a baby join the cacophony. No one rushes to the crib. No one soothingly shushes the baby boy. No one rocks him back into innocent sleep. The sounds of angry chaos rise through the night as soft snowflakes silently settle on the ground. 

* * *

_Thursday 6 March 1997_

_New Home – Gwanak-Gu_

All the lights are off in the tiny apartment, which towers on the third floor, above a run down restaurant. The windows oversee an alleyway, where dirt, trash, and unidentifiable puddles of muck litter the gray asphalt. The shadow of a man can be seen, stumbling up the fire escape, which is the only way to reach the small living quarters. He crashes his way into the living room, dropping the bottle and spilling the small remainder of its amber contents on the cheap green carpet.

A woman lies on the couch, lips parted with a small string of saliva running down her chin, arms dangling, one across her stomach, one hanging down by the floor. A syringe lies a few inches from her dangling hand, and if it were daylight, you would be able to see the needle marks in her arm. Half-empty Ziploc bags with one drug or another litter the table, scattered among the week-old empty bottles of beer.

The sound of shuffling feet can not be heard over the father’s drunken staggering, but soon, a young boy appears at the entrance to the hallway, small fists gently rubbing his eyes, warily peeking his lightly bruised face around the corner. The younger’s presence is not missed by the intoxicated man, and with a growl, he blunders his way across the room towards where the boy stands. With a slight flinch, the boy turns and tries to retreat back to his miniscule bedroom, but his father catches his arm first.

“What do you think you’re doing out here, you little runt” the man grunts. A slap rings through the air and the boy falls to the ground, his short legs unable to hold him under the force of the blow. Tears well in his eyes, the boy tries to curl up in a ball, but he gets yanked up, a large, calloused hand encircling his slim upper arm.

“Don’t you dare think about crying, you brat,” the gruff voice threatens, nails digging into the soft flesh. With a final shove, the man bellows, “Now get back into your room!” The boy rapidly toddles down the hall as fast as his small feet can carry him, and once he is safely shut inside, he sobs silently into his stained, tattered blanket, listening to the heavy footsteps as his father looks for a suitable place to pass out.

* * *

_Saturday 2 May 1998_

_New home 2 – Itaewon-Dong_

“Umma?” a soft voice asked.

“What!?” she replied, her voice laced with a sharp growl, narrowing her eyes before taking a long drag on her cigarette.

“I-I’m hungry. C-Can I p-please have some food?” The child stuttered, eyes cast to the ground.

The woman’s face darkens. “And what exactly,” she hisses, “Makes you think you have any right to ask me for food?!” She stalks towards him, trapping him against the wall with her hand pressed tightly against his small, bony shoulder, the hot tip of the cigarette in her fingers drawing uncomfortably close to his neck.

“You’ve already eaten more than your fair share of food for the week. What do you expect from your father and I, huh?!” She screamed.

“I-I-I’m sorry,” he whimpers. “I’m j-just s-so h-hungry… P-please.” His cheeks become blotchy and tears begin to spill from his large eyes as long eyelashes attempt to bat them away.

“You should have never been born, you wretch. Worst mistake of our lives” the mother said, turning away and downing the rest of the vodka from the tall bottle in her hand before stumbling back to the couch. She flops back onto its stained cushions, eyes becoming glued to the reality show on the television in front of her, all thoughts of her son pushed to the back of her mind.

“…. I’m sorry,” the boy whispered after a pause, shuffling back to his room, shutting himself away from the parents that hate his very existence, hoping that if he hid in the corner quietly, they’d forget about him and he wouldn’t get beaten tonight. Then again, they never forget to beat him on his birthday.


	4. Growing Up

[ ](http://shenandoahcountyva.us/fire-rescue/wp-content/uploads/sites/10/2014/01/DSC_0235-1024x685.jpg)

_Sunday 2 May 1999_

_New Home 2 – Itaewon-Dong_

Jongdae cried out from the floor as a sharp kick dug into his sternum. He wondered briefly how many bruises he'd have this time.

"Happy birthday, brat," a gruff voice of his father sneered at him from above, and Jongdae opened his eyes, watching the burly man stalk out the door. He slammed it shut, and Jongdae heard the sharp click of the lock before the footsteps fade down the hall. Jongdae clenched his eyes shut as a few silent tears slid down his cheeks, wetting the dusty wooden floor. He finally sat up, leaning against the wall and wrapped his thin blanket around his curled form. Closing his eyes, he heard the slam of the front door, announcing what Jongdae knew to be the exit of his father, heading off to the bar, to return who knows when. He heard his mother scream a few parting swears at her husband, followed by the sounds from their old antenna television, its soft bluish light sliding under the crack of Jongdae's door, barely illuminating the tiny, otherwise unlit closet. Knowing that he would simply be left to his thoughts, Jongdae closed his eyes, and drifted to sleep. 

* * *

Jongdae woke to the smell of smoke. The house wreaked of burnt wood, and the air had become thick, heavy, and dark. Jongdae felt the heat rise around him, and he spotted a brilliant orange light under his door, bright and strange compared to the usual blue from the television. Jongdae started to panic, pulling on his door handle desperately, before realizing that it was still locked.

"Umma! Umma!" He shouted in fear, backing away to the farthest wall, tears sliding down his cheeks and sweat gathering on his forehead. He could see the wall growing dark with ash as the fire consumed it, and he listened to the groan of the rafters, ever weakening from the flames. Suddenly, their was a shriek of splintering wood, and part of the roof collapsed, tearing down part of the door. Jongdae covered his face from the shower of sparks, and a wave of heat hit him like a wall. Jongdae struggled to his feet, coughing as the smoke assaulted his lungs, and stumbled through the gap where the door to his room had been.

Jongdae looked around, trying to find an exit through the flames, when he spotted his mother lying on the couch, her usual baggies of drugs all around her, a needle in her arm. Jongdae ran to her and tried to pull her off the couch, screaming at her that they needed to get out, his small body not able to pull her up. Despite the harsh words and even harsher hands raised against him, Jongdae's parents were all he had. After a few tugs on his mother's arm, he realized that her skin was icy, despite the heat surrounding them. Looking at her face, he saw her eyes half open, glazed, with spittle leaking out of her parted lips. Reeling back from her body, Jongdae couldn't even scream.

Another crack of the wood, and the ceiling was collapsing in on them, burying his mother's body. A piece of burning rafter caught Jongdae on the back, knocking him down and searing his pale, smooth skin. With a cry, Jongdae struggled to get out from under the log. He began to feel dizzy from the fumes, and he couldn't stop coughing, his lungs unable to find fresh air. As his eyes started to blur, Jongdae suddenly felt the weight of the log vanish, and strong hands lifted him in the air. As he was carried out of the burning building, Jongdae spotted blue and red flashing lights illuminating the street.

Five or six strangers in uniforms rushed to him and grabbed him, carrying him to the ambulance. Someone placed a funny mask over his nose and mouth, and he gulped down precious, clean air. The strangers started prodding him, asking if he was hurt. They wheeled him into the white truck, shut the doors, and sped down the street, siren's blaring. Jongdae, eyes feeling heavy, drifted off to sleep.

* * *

When Jongdae woke up, he saw white. Blinking, eyes squinted in the harsh light, he made out the beeping of strange machines and the discomfort of cords attached to his body. Before he had fully oriented himself, a man in a white coat walked up to him.

"Hello, Jongdae. How are you feeling?" The stranger said.

Jongdae paused, not trusting the man. "Who are you? Where are my parents?" He whispered. As if on cue, the two heard shouting down the hall before Jongdae's father burst his way into the room. 

"Who are you to talk to my kid without me, huh?" He shouted, storming over to the doctor.

"Sir, I was just checking on him. Your son just woke up." The doctor nervously replied. He failed to notice the twitch of Jongdae's father's nose when the word "son" was mentioned.

"Well. I think you've checked up on him enough. You've bandaged him up haven't you? He's fine." And with that, he turned to Jongdae, pulling on his wrist, saying, "Get up, Jongdae. We're leaving now." He pulled Jongdae out, despite the doctor's protests, and they drove away.

The two sat quietly as they drove, the silence only pierced by the occasional angry mutterings of Jongdae's father. Timidly, Jongdae finally asked, "Appa... Where's Umma?"

His dad flashed him a glance before replying, "Bitch is dead. Good riddance. Of course, she couldn't have gone without burning down my god damn house with her bleeding cigarette, could she?" 

And with that, the two fell silent again. Jongdae didn't have the courage to ask where they were going to go.


	5. Day 1

_Monday 31 August 2009_

_New Home 3 — Guryong_

The clocked ticked to 5:00 AM, followed by the blaring sound of Jongdae’s alarm clock in his ear. Sitting bolt upright, Jongdae rushed to silence it, then, with his heart pounding, listened for any sign that the sound woke his father. After sitting for a full minute in silence, Jongdae decided that he was safe. He stood, rubbing sleep from his eyes, and stretched, spine cracking a bit, stopping just short of a full stretch as the pain in his back bitterly reminded him to be careful.

Turning around, Jongdae looked at his messy “bed.” He didn’t have a real bed, just a mattress sitting on the wooden floor, with a pillow and thin blanket. He tried to straighten it up as much as possible, centering the pillow and folding the blanket before turning and crossing the room. He made it to the other wall in just four strides, as it was a fairly small space, and the mattress covered a third of its width anyway.

Jongdae crouched down and rummaged through a cardboard box on the floor, pulling out a toothbrush, comb, washcloth, and a little bottle with cream liquid in it. He then opened the door as slowly and quietly as he could, hoping it wouldn’t squeak. Looking at him, you’d think he was trying to avoid setting off a land mine. He moved into the hallway, delicately shifting his weight from one foot to the other, tactfully avoiding the floorboards that he knew creaked. Luckily, he only had a few feet to go, and before long, Jongdae had safely made it into the bathroom, closing the door with a soft click.

Shuffling over to the sink, Jongdae set his things down on the edge before turning the faucet handle. Looking at the water grimly, he took a deep breath before cupping some in his hands and splashing his face. He gasped slightly from the icy cold, pausing before splashing himself a few more times. He turned the water off, wiping away the lingering drops that fell into his eyes from his bangs, before reaching for the washcloth and patting his face dry. As he finished up, Jongdae briefly reflected on the fact that, while not having hot water sucked, it did have a knack for waking one up in the morning. With all lingering thoughts of sleep gone, Jongdae reached for his toothbrush and scrubbed his teeth clean.

As he capped the nearly-empty toothpaste bottle, he knew he’d have to buy more soon. _Well, there goes one of my meals for the week_ , he thought bitterly. Jongdae tried to conserve those daily necessities and have them last as long as possible, but everything had to run out eventually. Unfortunately, money was also tight, so when things ran out, sacrifices had to be made.

When he was done, Jongdae finally dared to look in the mirror. The sight he was met with was far from the sprightly teenage boy that one would expect. His hair was fussed up from sleep, and he had dark circles under his eyes, only having managed to get about four hours of sleep. His skin looked gaunt and pale, which contrasted greatly to the purple bruising that surrounded his right eye. Sighing, Jongdae grabbed the bottle of foundation, which he had to steal from the convenience store.

He measured out a drop of the creamy liquid onto the back of his hand and dipped his index finger in it before tenderly dabbing it around his black eye. His hands trembled slightly as his tremor—which had started years ago—kicked in, and he winced a bit when it caused him to touch the tender skin just slightly too hard. He finished blending the makeup in and stepped back, taking in the effect. It hid the injury well enough that Jongdae doubted anyone would notice it as long as they didn’t look too closely. Finally, Jongdae smoothed out his hair, trying to tame the flyaway bits in the back that stuck up from where he slept on them.

When he was content with the normalcy of his appearance (he tried to draw as little attention to himself as possible), Jongdae made the silent journey back to his room. Placing his things back in their box, Jongdae turned around and stuffed his new textbooks into his weathered bag. Well, they were new to him. In reality, they were the cheapest ones in the used bookstore because they weren’t exactly in the best condition, but they suited Jongdae’s purposes just fine. Besides, they were all he could afford. He had been saving up for weeks, tucking away a fraction of his paychecks in order to buy his books, and even then, he only barely had enough.

When his school supplies were all packed up, Jongdae walked to the opposite wall, where two neatly-folded piles of clothing sat. Jongdae only had three sets of clothes: his school uniform, his work clothes, and the clothes he wore for everything else. He changed into his school uniform (which he had snuck from the used-clothes drive that the school had held that summer) and folded his “everything else” outfit before placing it on the floor. He then grabbed his work clothes and tucked them safely in his bag before zipping it up and creeping into the hallway once again.

When he walked in the living room, Jongdae’s stomach growled furiously, clenching up from emptiness. Jongdae had tried to ignore his nagging hunger, but he hadn’t eaten a full meal in days. Glancing worriedly back down the hallway at his father’s bedroom door, Jongdae sighed and gently set his bag down before making his way into the kitchen.

He reached the counter and weaved his arm around the litter of mostly-empty beer bottles, picking up the box of cereal that sat in the middle. The top had been left open, taunting him, inviting him in, and Jongdae reached his skinny hand in, cringing as he brushed against the plastic bagging, making it crinkle. It was quiet, but it sounded horrifyingly loud to Jongdae’s terrified ears. He wasn’t sure which was louder, the crunch of cereal as he scooped up a small handful, or the beating of his heart as it tried to pound its way out of his chest.

Jongdae finally pulled his hand from the box, successfully taking a handful of cereal in the process. He didn’t dare take more, wanting the box to look untouched. He knew that if his father caught him taking food, he’d be punished, even though Jongdae was the one who bought and paid for the food in the first place. Creeping back to the front door, Jongdae quietly slung his backpack over his shoulder before exiting the house.

Outside, Jongdae was greeted with the golden glow of the newly risen sun. He smiled slightly, reveling in that spark of beauty before he turned around and swept his eyes over the dirty slum that he lived in. Guryong wasn’t even supposed to exist. They were all living their illegally. It was private land, and one day some people just set up camp there because they had nowhere else to go.

And that was how a certain Kim Jongdae and his father ended up living there. Because they had nowhere else to go.

Jongdae traipsed through the narrow spaces between the desolate houses, munching on dry cereal one piece at a time as he went, basking in even the plain flavor and the crunch in his mouth, savoring every bite. He had finished his “breakfast” by the time he had left the slum and reached the street. As he made his way down block after block, the roads got busier as the city of Seoul woke up.

Jongdae passed a glowing neon sign just as it flashed and advertised the time as 6:30. School started in an hour, though Jongdae figured he would probably need a little bit of extra time before class to get sorted out, being a new student. Unfortunately, there weren’t exactly a lot of high schools near Guryong, which means that Jongdae’s walk to and from school lasted over an hour.

Jongdae didn’t mind the trek so much, since it wasn’t too cold out. He knew it would be a bitch of a walk in the winter, especially given that he didn’t own a coat. He’d have to try to save up, starting now, and see if he could get one by the time winter started. Today though, Jongdae was actually sort of enjoying the walk. To the people passing him in cars on their morning commute, he was just an average teenager, with an average life, walking to school. To them, Jongdae was completely and utterly normal. Jongdae almost smiled at the thought, but his shoulders sagged an inch as he wished that what they thought was true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment below!


	6. Small Talk

[ ](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/06/c6/b6/06c6b606172688619c1451734c2d1807.jpg)

Jongdae walked through the gates of the school at 7:10, drawing a few curious glances from the early students who didn’t recognize him. Jongdae hated the first day of school for that reason: because he drew attention. Luckily, in a week or two, Jongdae knew that he would go back to blending in, the novelty of his presence wearing off of the other kids, labelling him as the quiet kid who never talks. He just has to make it through these couple weeks _without_ making an impression.

Jongdae stepped into the fairly empty hallways and wandered around until he found the office. As he approached the front desk, the kind-looking woman sitting behind it looked up at him.

“Annyeong haseyo. Can I help you?” she said, smiling at him gently.

“Um, yes. I’m a new student here,” he said.

“Wonderful! Welcome! Can I get your name please?”

“Kim Jongdae.”

“Pleased to meet you, Jongdae. My name is Roo Aejung. I’m the school’s secretary, and if you ever need anything, you can come to me, and I’ll sort things out for you. Let me just print up your schedule, and then I can point you the right way to your homeroom, okay?” she said.

Jongdae merely nodded, giving her a soft smile before she typed something away at her computer, causing her printer to whir to life. She took the resulting paper and handed it to him. “This is your class schedule. It has all the times, room numbers, and teachers written down on it. Your locker number and combination are written at the top. Your homeroom teacher is Han Seonsaeng-nim. If you walk out of this office and turn left, his classroom will be the third door on the right.”

“Gamsahabnida.” Jongdae said, taking the schedule and bowing before turning to the door. He walked down the hallway, eyes scanning the locker numbers until he reached his. He dialed the combination and pulled it open before beginning to unload his books into it. He glanced at his schedule. He had ten classes listed: homeroom, science, mathematics, literature, English, history, music, physical education, economics, and art.

Tucking his schedule in his blazer pocket, Jongdae unloaded the textbooks he wouldn’t need until later into his locker. When he finished up, he zipped his bag, throwing it over his shoulders before closing his locker door with a metallic clang. He then made his way back down the hall, towards his homeroom classroom, avoiding eye contact with the other students in the hallway. When he reached what he thought was the right classroom, he walked in and made straight for the teacher’s desk.

“Excuse me, are you Han Seonsaeng-nim?” Jongdae timidly asked, bowing deeply as he said it.

“Yes, I am. You must be the new student,” he said with a smile. His homeroom teacher was young, probably only in his thirties, and he seemed far kinder to Jongdae than any teacher he had met before, even during this brief interaction.

“Ne. Jeoneun Kim Jongdae-imnida,” Jongdae said with another bow.

“Welcome, Jongdae. You seem to be finding your way around decently. You found your locker, right?” Jongdae affirmed with a nod. “Good. Well, as far as seating arrangements go, I’ve put you over here,” he said, gesturing to a desk in the front row, the furthest to the left. “You’ll sit there each day for homeroom, unless I decide that the seating chart needs rearranging. If you need anything, you can come to me, okay?”

“Ne, gamsahabnida,” Jongdae said, ducking his head again in yet another small bow.

“Well, I’ll let you get settled then. Class starts in just a few minutes.” And with that, Jongdae was able to get to his seat. He pulled out his notebook and a pen, opening it to the first, blank page. Glancing around, Jongdae observed the other students. For the most part, they ignored him, more preoccupied with excitedly greeting each other after summer break, only sparing Jongdae the occasional look.

Jongdae’s eye was caught when the human equivalent of the BFG walked in. He was tall, taller than Jongdae by at least ten centimeters, his head popping up above the other students’. His ears stuck out a little bit from beneath his brown hair, and he had a shining grin plastered on his face.

“Ah, Chanyeol! Can I speak to you for a moment?” their teacher said, and the giant strode over to his desk with long steps.

“Annyeong, Seonsaeng-nim! What can I do for you?” the giant said, flashing that grin once again.

Jongdae jumped as his attention was suddenly diverted by a burst of chatter as a group of twittering girls were joyfully reunited, positively shrieking in delight, drowning out almost all other sound in the classroom.

Jongdae turned back to the front, ready to duck his head down and bury himself in his notebook, but to his horror, as he turned back, the giant was looking right at him, strolling over with long strides, still with that Cheshire grin.

The lanky boy plopped himself down in the chair next to Jongdae, setting his bag down and threading his long legs into the small space under the desk, before turning to Jongdae with puppy-like eyes.

“Annyeong!!!” the giant said, his voice surprisingly deep for someone with such a jovial air about him.

Jongdae mustered a tiny smile, the corners of his lips barely turning upward nervously. “Annyeong,” he uttered softly.

“You’re Jongdae, right? Jeoneun Chanyeol-imnida! I’ll be the one sitting next to you this year. I’m so excited! I love meeting new people. Oh, and if you ever need help with anything or if you have questions, you can just ask me! I love helping out! Maybe we’ll even become friends!”

Jongdae smiled politely as Chanyeol rambled on, but his stomach twisted itself in knots as dread settled in. This isn’t how it was supposed to go. Chanyeol seemed friendly enough, but Jongdae was supposed to go unnoticed. He was supposed to slip beneath the radar and disappear, not get put under the spotlight of one very talkative giant.

Finally, their homeroom teacher called out over the clamor, drawing everyone’s attention so class could begin. Jongdae let out a breath of relief as Chanyeol turned away from him, attention focused instead on the front of the room.

As the lesson began, Jongdae resolved to try to be as precisely on time to class as possible from now on, therefore dodging any more pre-class conversation in the future. It’s not that he didn’t want to have friends, but in order to maintain friendship, one had to give back, and in that remark, Jongdae didn’t have much to offer. His schedule was jam-packed with school, work, homework, and housework, so he didn’t exactly have free-time to spend with others. He didn’t have enough money to go out for fun. He wasn’t at liberty to answer many personal questions at risk of others prying into doors Jongdae would rather keep closed. Essentially, Jongdae wasn’t able to get past basic conversation without entering the danger zone, so Jongdae just tried to avoid people in general, as small talk almost never stayed as just small talk.

Their homeroom teacher turned to the chalkboard, and Jongdae saw Chanyeol throw another friendly smile his way. Jongdae didn’t return the grin, choosing instead to turn his eyes downward at the blank page, burying himself in his notes for the rest of class.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update! Featuring Park Chanyeol!
> 
> I'm so excited that I finally get to start introducing some new characters. Over the next few chapters you'll meet some new people, both good and bad, and then, we'll actually be able to get to some of the plot! Exciting!!! Anyway, I hope that you enjoy the chapter!
> 
> Please leave a comment below with your thoughts!


	7. Blend In

[](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/fa/77/c5/fa77c532043870bb1317d6bc6e7ae407.jpg) [](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/e6/a2/45/e6a2451b990f2907ca68d84e97e95952.jpg)

The moment their homeroom teacher dismissed class, Jongdae was up and out of the room. He was even gone before Chanyeol even had a chance to open his mouth, which was--by all accounts--impressive. In the rest of his morning classes passed quickly, with Jongdae keeping to himself, not even looking up at the other students, not risking making eye contact and inviting a conversation.

Lunch went by without incident, with Jongdae managing to hide at a little table in the back of the almost-empty library for the hour. It’s not like he actually had a lunch or enough money to buy one anyway. Besides, he could use the much-needed time to get some homework done.

When the lunch bell rang, Jongdae begrudgingly left his safe nook and exited the library. He hurried down the hall with eyes glued to the floor, trying to get to class as quickly as possible. He hated being the new kid because he felt like every eye was glued to him, every tiny passing glance disguising a judgmental glare.

Jongdae rounded the corner and _wham!_ He crashed straight into someone, stumbling backwards, while the other student fell, books scattering everywhere.

Jongdae opened his mouth in horror before a flurry of apologies came out as he scrambled to pick up the student’s things for him. Before he could do much, one of the student’s companions, a tall boy with hair dyed dirty blond, stomped over to Jongdae and pushed him away.

“Yah!” the tall boy shouted, towering over Jongdae. “What do you think you're doing, running around corners running into people like that? You could have hurt someone, and look at the mess you’ve made, you idiot!”

Now Jongdae _knew_ that everyone was staring at him. As far as blending in went, frankly, Jongdae was doing a shit job of it.

Meanwhile, the boy Jongdae ran into was standing up and dusting himself off. Another dark-haired boy was busy gathering all the scattered papers up while the last of the group stood with his arms crossed, rolling his eyes.

“Yah!” the blond-haired boy shouted. “I’m talking to you!” He shoved Jongdae again.

Jongdae stumbled backward even further, shrinking back as he tried to form an apology on his tied tongue, but he was interrupted by the boy he had knocked over. “Oh, shut up Minchul,” he said lazily, accepting his books from his companions. “Come on, we’re going to be late.” And with that, they left, though not without a couple of them throwing glares at Jongdae as they passed.

Jongdae straightened up, face tinted pink as the eyes of his fellow classmates didn’t turn away from him. He straightened his jacket, hunched his shoulders, and hurried to class, though carefully making sure he looked up enough to not go barreling into anyone again.

* * *

Finally, the school day was over. The rest of the day was uneventful, which Jongdae was thankful of. Within five minutes of the final bell, Jongdae was walking out of the school gates, trying to leave the day behind him.

Jongdae breathed in the crisp air as he walked down the gray sidewalk, afternoon sun kissing his pale skin. With each block he walked, he felt the knot in his chest release a little bit. By the time he rounded the final block before his destination, he actually felt relaxed.

Jongdae opened the door to the coffee shop and walked in the back room, tucking his backpack in the corner and pulling his work clothes out. After changing in the employee bathroom, he put his apron on and headed to the front of the shop. He greeted Sarge, his cranky 40-something coworker who, despite how long he and Jongdae had been working together, they still hadn’t gotten beyond the point of silently acknowledging each other with a nod. Jongdae didn’t even know the guys real name. He just called him Sarge because of he had both the disposition and the personality of a Navy Seal drill sergeant. That and because he always wore a camouflage-patterned hat to work.

Despite having a double shift, work went by quickly. Before he knew it, Jongdae was grabbing his backpack and walking out the door. He even got to take one of the old pastries that hadn’t been sold because wouldn’t be fresh in the morning. It was already dark by the time he left, but walking alone at night had never bothered Jongdae. After all, what could really happen to him that hadn’t already been done before?

It was around 10:00 PM by the time Jongdae got home. His grumbling stomach ceased for a little bit, appeased by the scone, which Jongdae had devoured, licking every last crumb off his fingers. Jongdae quietly opened the front door and peered into the dark living room. There were no lights on and not a sound could be heard.

Jongdae stepped inside the door and slipped his shoes off. He stood in the living room, toes shifting nervously, shoes in hand, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Finally, when he felt that he could see well enough to avoid knocking over any of the bottles on the floor, Jongdae navigated his way through the house and down the hallway. He paused for a moment outside the door to his father’s bedroom, pressing an ear to the warped wood. He couldn’t hear anything, which meant that his father must be out of the house. Probably on a drinking binge, wasting what little money they had.

Sighing, Jongdae walked the rest of the way to his room, not worried about making too much noise now. He dropped his heavy backpack and changed out of his work clothes. He leaned against the wall and sunk down onto the floor. The exhaustion was settling in now. He had been awake for 17 hours, and the exhaustion was starting to hit him hard. Unfortunately, he still had to finish his homework. After all, it wouldn’t exactly look good if he showed up on Day 2 having not done half of it. As he opened his textbook, Jongdae was just thankful that he had gotten some of it done in the library earlier that day.

His eyes slid over the pages drearily, hands scrawling tiny, well-written notes, only the scratch of the pencil and the occasional rustling of paper breaking the silence of the house. The peace was a nice change, so different from the tension that usually occupied the place. With luck, it would be one of those nights where Jongdae’s father didn’t come stumbling back until the next day, if not later.

Jongdae finally finished the last page of reading and heaved the cover of the book shut. He glanced at the clock, blue numbers illuminating just a little too brightly to be comfortable in the dark room. It was almost 1 AM. Jongdae collapsed onto his mattress and dragged the blanket on top of his weary body, falling asleep almost the moment he lay still.


	8. Black Hole

[ ](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/37/c4/98/37c498fb3883f3f5bcb6cc9e05f77539.jpg)

The next few weeks of school progressed normally for Jongdae. He would wake up, get ready, hide the bruises, and try not to think about how empty his stomach felt. At school, he’d sit silently through class, do homework during lunch, and overall just try to avoid notice. Chanyeol would sometimes try to talk to him, but Jongdae tried to keep their conversations brief. Non-descript, short answers to everything Chanyeol said, not supplying anything to the conversation. Jongdae’s coldness didn’t seem to deter the Chanyeol in the least, with the Giant just taking Jongdae’s silence as a chance for him to talk more instead. He was quite a pleasant person to be around, and Jongdae thought that if his life were anything other than what it was, he wouldn’t mind being friends with Chanyeol.

Despite his best efforts, Jongdae still managed to run into trouble sometimes. Running into that boy on the first day was about the biggest fuck up Jongdae could have made. That boy was Shin Dongsuk, who is basically top of the school. He doesn’t care what anyone else thinks, and he always says what’s on his mind. Everyone looks up to him. Everyone is afraid of him, at least to the degree that they know not to mess with him. Dongsuk rarely ever instigates the violence unless someone incites it. It’s his cronies that you have to worry about.

Kang Minchul is the most enthusiastic of the bunch. His ego is the pinnacle of his personality. He is driven by a need to feel big and powerful, so he puts other people down to build himself up. He practically worships Dongsuk, always looking for affirmation. He has a tendency to get tunnel vision and not know when to stop, even when the others in the crew tell him to. Jongdae hates Minchul the most.

Yoo Ilsung is the definition of a follower. He doesn’t feel any particular loyalty to Dongsuk’s crew, but it’s the best option available right now, and he is entirely comfortable jumping on for the ride. He goes with the flow, regardless of which direction it’s headed. Ilsung, towering a good ten centimeters taller than Jongdae, also packs a punch, as Jongdae rapidly learned.

The last boy, Huang Zitao, prefers to use words as his weapons, minimizing physical contact to pushes and shoves. He frequently hangs towards the back of the crew, choosing to leer from the side during their “fights” (for lack of a better word, as Jongdae was almost exclusively the recipient rather than a contributor in these activities). On the occasion, Jongdae thought he noticed the slightest bit of hesitance in Tao sometimes, but perhaps it’s just wishful thinking. After all, one rarely thinks or sees clearly while actively getting beaten up or otherwise harassed.

After school ends, hopefully (but rarely) without incident, Jongdae would go to work. He had found a second and third job, one at a bookstore and the other at a local movie theater. It wasn’t easy, balancing three jobs and schoolwork, but he didn’t exactly have a choice either. Jongdae had gotten the first water and electricity bills. They didn’t have hot water, and there were only three light bulbs in the whole house, but the bills were enough for Jongdae to worry about.

His father knew that he had gotten a job at the movie theater, but he didn’t know about the bookstore job. His father always demanded that Jongdae handed over his paychecks, mostly so that he could by more alcohol, drugs, and the occasional hooker. Once, Jongdae had refused to hand it over. His father beat him badly enough that he could barely move for a week. Jongdae never protested after that. He did his best to keep his third job a secret though, lying about his work hours and pay for the other jobs to cover it up. He stashed the extra money away, using it to buy food, saving the rest for other things he would need in the future, like a coat.

When his various work shifts ended, Jongdae would make the long trek home, usually in the dark, where hopefully his father was either gone or passed out if Jongdae was lucky. At home, he’d wash up, inspect and clean his injuries, and finish his homework before taking to the comfort of his “bed” for a few hours before the next day began.

Sometimes, on the bad days, Jongdae received a beating for one reason or another. His father would find every excuse to punish him, whether Jongdae could control it or not: dirty dishes in the sink, got fired from work… anything. Jongdae didn’t always finish his homework on those days, and his grades were starting to show it. Sometimes he would rush into class late, uniform askew, homework only half complete, wincing with each step, blushing red from ear to ear, eyes drilling holes into the floor.

Jongdae worried. He worried about losing his scholarship. He worried about someone discovering his secret. He worried about not being able to eat. He worried about not being able to pay the utility bills in time before they get shut off. He worried that one day he’d get beaten so badly that he wouldn’t ever wake up. He worried that no one would care if he did.

Each night, these worries haunted him. Sometimes it kept his bloodshot eyes pried open, which amazed Jongdae, because he wasn’t sure how he could stay awake for another second given how exhausted he felt. Sometimes the worries made him so nauseous that he threw up what little he had to eat. His already thin body grew more skeletal with each passing week.

But he had to keep up the façade. Each morning, he would put on his “I’m okay” face. It wasn’t really a happy face, but it wasn’t something that screamed “Help me!” either. Sometimes at night, Jongdae wondered how in the morning he can seem so perfectly fine, act like nothing is wrong, how not one single person notices the black hole hidden just underneath the cracked mask.

Then, finally, he falls asleep. Sleep is good. It means that you can forget everything for just a little while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New characters! Yay!  
> ...Except they're bad, so BOO!
> 
> The cold, phlegmatic leader: Shin Dongsuk  
> Age: 18  
> Height: 180 cm  
> Hair color: light brown
> 
> The devoted henchman: Kang Minchul  
> Age: 17  
> Height: 177 cm  
> Hair color: dirty blond
> 
> The opportunistic follower: Yoo Ilsung  
> Age: 18  
> Height: 183 cm  
> Hair color: black


	9. Count Your Blessings

[ ](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/02/39/77/0239776447fa9fe12116a301cedf5761.jpg)

Jongdae woke up early the next morning, despite it being Saturday. He usually woke up early naturally, though not as early as he does on school days. Jongdae felt conflicted about weekends. On the one hand, he didn’t have school, so he didn’t have to worry about Dongsuk and his crew, or about anyone finding out his secret. On the other hand, it meant that he was at home with his father.

After crawling out of his bed quietly, Jongdae took a quick tour around the house, looking for his father. It didn’t take long, and Jongdae quickly discovered that the man was not in the house. He was probably still out on a binge, passing out in some bar or motel bedroom.

Jongdae’s shoulders relaxed a little bit, and he padded off to the bathroom where he turned on the shower. After undressing, Jongdae took an apprehensive breath before diving into the icy blast. Winter was approaching, and the mornings were permeated with frosty air, which didn’t make the lack of hot water any easier.

Jongdae hurriedly showered, washing his hair. In a way, the feeling of water sliding over his head and shoulders was calming, though Jongdae wasn’t ready to linger in the frigid stream for too long.

Soon after, Jongdae turned the faucet and dried himself off. He quickly dressed before returning to his room and wrapping himself in his thin sheet. It wasn’t much, but Jongdae had to at least try to get warm again. The lack of food, and therefore energy, wasn’t helping much either.

Jongdae pulled his school bag over and settled himself on his mattress before opening a textbook and burying his nose in it. He managed to get a few hours of productive work in before he heard the front door slam shut.

Jongdae let out a tense breath, shoulders hunching in apprehension. His eyes turned back to his homework, but his ears alertly listened to every sound. For nearly an hour, Jongdae worked, alert, while his father clambered around the kitchen and living room.

“Boy!” a harsh voice finally bawled down the hallway. Drawing in a shaky breath, Jongdae quickly put down his book and untangled himself from the sheet, hastily skittering down the hallway towards his father.

“Yes?” Jongdae asked softly.

“We're out of food, brat,” his father stated gruffly.

“I-I’m sorry,” the boy murmured.

“So what are you waiting for? Go to the store and get more!”

“Appa, w-we just paid the utility bills last week, and I haven’t been paid yet for this week. We don’t have much money le—" Jongdae was cut off mid-sentence by a harsh slap on his cheek.

“I said,” his father growled, grabbing Jongdae’s shirt collar and pulling him in closely. “Go get more.”

“Yes, sir,” Jongdae whispered shakily. When he was released, Jongdae hastily scooped up the last of the money from the counter, tucking the bills into his pocket before sliding his shoes on and slinking out the door. Turning his back on the hovel, Jongdae drew in a breath of crisp air, stuffing his already chilly hands into his pockets as he walked away.

Jongdae reached the convenience store and walked through the automatic doors, reveling at the cloud of heat that enveloped him as he did. Jongdae wandered the aisles, finding food that was cheap and that they could make last more than a day. Aisle 4, white rice. Rice was good. It was cheap, it lasted a while, and it was filling. Aisle 7, lettuce. Cheapest vegetable he can find that they can also make last more than a day. Aisle 9, eggs. Filling, with lots of protein.

Jongdae added up the prices as he went, and the budget ran out quickly. Sighing, Jongdae went to the checkout line, his three items bundled in his arms. As he stood in line, his stomach growled furiously, and it felt like it was trying to claw itself out of his torso. He handed over the last of the money to the cashier, his heartstrings pulling a bit as the bills left his hand. Only a couple measly coins remained in his pocket.

Jongdae gathered the food in his arms and began the trek home. When he arrived, Jongdae put the lettuce and eggs in the fridge. As he did, his father walked in the room and slumped on the couch, taking a sip from his beer bottle.

“What did you buy?” he asked.

“Eggs, lettuce, rice.”

“That’s it?”

“That was all we could afford.” Jongdae tensed up, expecting a violent outburst in response. His father merely grunted in response.

“Make some of that rice then.” Jongdae didn’t respond, instead immediately turning and pulling a small black pot from a cupboard, filling it with water, and placing it on their makeshift stove. After about twenty minutes, his father sauntered over while Jongdae checked the rice. The burly man opened a cupboard and pulled out the two small bowls that sat alone on the shelf and placed them on the counter before not-so-gently pushing Jongdae over.

The boy wasted no time in getting out of the way, choosing to busy himself by putting the bag of rice away. When he was done, Jongdae turned around to his father shoved a bowl across the counter towards him. It contained a large leaf of the lettuce with a couple small scoops of rice deposited in the middle. Most people wouldn’t consider it much, but then again, they didn’t have much to begin with. At least his father was letting him eat some of the food. And on top of that, it was warm.

After retrieving some chopsticks, Jongdae gulped down his food. He probably should have savored it more, or at least taken longer to chew, but the emptiness in his stomach had possessed him. When he finished, Jongdae carefully washed his dish and the rice pot before putting them away and retreating to his room.

As he settled back onto his mattress, curling back into the sheet and retrieving his homework, Jongdae relished the content warm feeling in his stomach. It hadn’t been enough to fill him, and the hunger would drag itself back like an itch that couldn’t be scratched, but for once in what felt like a long time, Jongdae couldn’t feel his stomach twisting itself into angry knots.

He closed his eyes briefly and the ghost of a smile cracked across his lips as the fleeting feeling of what Jongdae supposed could be called comfort hugged his shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, we'll get some more action from Jogndae's father and from Dongsuk & crew, so get ready!
> 
> Please give a kudos if you like this story, and leave a comment letting me know your thoughts on it so far!


	10. Relentless

[ ](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/2f/32/fe/2f32fe5ae59db48bddd102670cf45fc5.jpg)

The rest of the weekend passed uneventfully. Jongdae mostly tried to keep to himself, and his father wasn’t even home much and mostly stayed away when he was there. Sunday evening fell, and Jongdae was putting his schoolwork away in his bag, having just finished doing the last of it. His stomach rumbled a bit, and Jongdae sighed, mentally apologizing to it that he didn’t have any more food to give it right now.

Jongdae jumped as the door to his room slammed open, and his hands began to shake in apprehension. His father sauntered in, veering a bit to the side, wreaking of alcohol.

“Where’s the rest of the money? We’re out of booze,” the man slurred.

“I-I-It’s gone, remember? Y-You sent m-me to buy food yesterday. That w-was the l-last of the m-money,” Jongdae spluttered as he tried to back away. His father was always worse when he was drinking, but he became downright terrifying when he was unable to fuel his various addictions.

“You little, wretch,” the large man said as he slunk forward. “You probably stole the last of it didn’t you!?” He lunged forward, grabbing Jongdae’s shoulder and slamming the boy into the ground. “You greedy little bastard.”

“A-Appa, I s-swear, there’s no money left!” Jongdae cried out, trying to shield his head with his arms as an onslaught of fists rained down on him. His father merely growled at him in response and continued the barrage of hits. After several more blows, his father grabbed Jongdae by the shirt and threw the frail boy at the wall before giving him a sharp kick. Jongdae winced as his head cracked against the wall, blinking away the small dots of light dancing in his vision.

“Where’s the rest of the money, boy!?” he growled, shoving his stubby fingers into Jongdae’s pockets. He fished out the two coins that remained, which Jongdae had forgotten to leave on the counter after he came back from the store the other day.

“You little shit,” his father snarled. “Where’s the rest?”

“That’s it! There’s no more. The rest was spent on food, remember?” Jongdae pleaded. He was starting to feel dizzy after the repeated blows to his head. His father shouted incoherently and began punching Jongdae again. After several more hits, Jongdae’s skull felt rattled, and one strike right to his temple sent him over the line to unconsciousness. Jongdae’s eyes drooped closed and his body went limp on the floor at his father’s feet.

* * *

When Jongdae managed to crack his eyes open again, his head throbbed in protest. His whole body ached from lying on the cold floor for however long he had been there. Groaning, Jongdae pressed his palms to his eyes before rolling over and sitting up.

Blinking in an attempt to clear his head, Jongdae looked around the room. His father had kicked what little he had around, so the room was a mess, but nothing looked like it was missing.

As he scanned the floor, Jongdae realized that the room was well lit, and sunlight was streaming in through the window. Eyes flying open, Jongdae turned to the clock. The numbers “9:14” blinked at him in red light. Jongdae swore under his breath, and in a flurry of limbs, he scrambled off the floor. Black spots filled his vision, and he stumbled a bit, but Jongdae merely shook his head to clear it and got moving again.

In a rush, he grabbed his school clothes and quickly changed. Running to the bathroom, he looked himself over in the mirror and hastily covered up the visible bruises on his face. It didn’t matter how late he was; the bruises could not go uncovered. When he had finished up, Jongdae grabbed his bag, threw on his shoes, and ran out the door, intending to sprint all the way to school if he had to.

By the time Jongdae got to school, it was ten o’clock. As he walked through the doors, he tried to smooth down his wind-ruffled hair, gulping down air in an attempt to catch his breath. Second period was about to end, so there was no point in trying to make it, so he decided to spend the last few minutes collecting himself for his next class and coming up with excuses to give the teachers of the classes he slept through.

As he thought, Jongdae failed to notice the quiet voices chatting and laughing getting closer as he approached the end of the hall. When he turned the corner, Jongdae found himself standing right in front of Dongsuk and his gang.

“Well, look who it is,” Dongsuk sneered.

“Cutting class, freak?” Minchul leered, hopping off the wall he perched on before prowling a few steps closer. Jongdae didn’t respond, merely backing up several steps, only for him so back straight into Ilsung, who had strategically moved behind him to block his exit.

“What’s the matter, weirdo?” Tao prodded, nose wrinkling. “Forget how to talk back?” There was a moment of silence as Jongdae stared at the floor. Ilsung pushed the small boy forward, causing him to stumble right over Minchul’s outstretched leg and fall to the floor. Jongdae let out a tight breath as his bruised torso protested against the harsh landing.

“It’s rude to not answer when someone asks you a question,” Dongsuk said coolly, pushing off of the wall he leaned against to saunter forward until he towered above Jongdae’s fallen form. Jongdae only curled in on himself more, awaiting a kick or some other strike.

“Tch,” Tao tutted with annoyance and a click of his tongue. “Look at him, he’s pathetic. He’s not even going to try to fight back.” As if to test the theory, Jongdae felt a sharp kick plant itself on his back, followed by several harsher ones from multiple directions. He scrunched his eyes shut, trying to block out the aching pain, not moving an inch and hoping he could just disappear.

A pair of hands grabbed his collar and shoved him aside. Jongdae could hear Minchul and Ilsung snickering as they began to walk away, flanking Dongsuk. Tao hovered behind a moment longer, staring down at him with his face scrunched like he smelled something foul.

“If you’re not even going to try to stop it, then you deserve every punch,” Tao scolded before turning on his heel and striding away.

Jongdae stayed curled on the floor a moment longer, partly to make sure they were gone (he didn’t want to tempt them to come back and beat him down more thoroughly), but partly to give his aching torso a moment’s rest. Finally, he pulled himself up, one hand on the wall, the other clutching his throbbing side. He slowly marched his way upstairs as the students began to trickle into the hallway.

As he reached the room for his next class, Jongdae breathed as deeply as his sore ribs would allow, before putting on his “okay face” and walking through the door.


	11. Drift

[ ](http://pa1.narvii.com/5937/ca0cbd615cfa56063af5c78d89ebf7f0cc3a71f5_hq.gif)

Jongdae made an extra effort to keep to himself for the next couple days. In class, he ducked his head lower than usual, and he breezed particularly quickly through the hallways between classes. He barely spoke a word at school or home, and he only spoke at work when he had to. He became invisible.

On Thursday, as Jongdae began walking home from work, tiny pinpricks of rain began cascading down from the dark sky onto his face. He looked up and stared at the starless sky, the moon obscured by the black, billowing clouds. He dragged his sore and tired feet across the pavement, not caring if he got mud on his already worn shoes. Small clouds of frosty air billowed in front of Jongdae every time he breathed, reminding him that winter was already almost there.

It was late and the streets were practically empty; his eyes drooped, his body ached from the beatings from his father and Dongsuk earlier that week, and his skull pounded with a headache. Jongdae spent most of the journey staring blankly at the sidewalk in front of him, looking, but not really seeing. Before he knew it, he was turning off the sidewalk into the slums he supposed he called home, the dirt paths between shacks almost completely transformed into muddy sludge.

When he reached his house, Jongdae slipped his mud-caked shoes off before entering the front door quietly. To his alarm, Jongdae immediately spotted his father sitting on the couch, and he was staring right at Jongdae. Jongdae froze where he stood and waited, trying to see if his father would move or say something. For several, uncomfortably long seconds, the two just waited, unblinking, Jongdae looking down at the coffee table, not daring to meet his father’s eyes, his father staring right at him. One would have thought time had stopped if not for the small radio on the table that kept playing.

“Jongdae,” his father broke the silence, unnervingly calm. “Come listen to the radio with me.” Jongdae paused for a moment, torn between not wanting to remain in the same room as his father and not wanting to disobey.

“I… I have to study. I have a test tomorrow,” Jongdae responded quietly. It wasn’t a lie. Jongdae did have a test tomorrow, and while studying was a legitimate concern of his, the excuse was mostly for the benefit of retreating to his room.

“Do as you're told, and sit the fuck down,” his father said coolly. Jongdae knew not to push it further, so he slowly trudged over to the couch and gently slid his backpack to the floor before taking a seat on the opposite end of the couch, scooting as far away from his father as possible.

They sat there for a while, Jongdae staring at his hands clasped on his lap, trying to barely move, his father staring out into space, occasionally sipping from his beer bottle, the baseball commentators rambling off. It was the second half of the 9th inning, and his father’s favorite team was losing. Jongdae’s heart sank as the other team scored yet another run.

The game finally ended. His father’s team lost 4-1. Jongdae heard the commentators note something about not making the playoffs. An advertisement for some popular bubble tea brand started playing in the background. Jongdae could feel the air grow thicker, and his hands began trembling slightly. His father hadn’t moved, just staring at the floor in front of him, and Jongdae didn’t dare even breathe.

Suddenly, his father was up in a whirl of motion. “Shit!” he shouted as he hurled his beer bottle into the wall. Jongdae jumped and curled inward defensively as his hands began to shake. His father stomps over to him and slaps Jongdae hard, causing the boy to almost fall off the side of the couch. Before he could even recover, Jongdae felt a fist clutching his hair, yanking him to the floor, dragging him a few feet before unceremoniously dropping him.

Knowing what was coming, Jongdae curled into a ball, hands crossed over his head, trying to make himself as small as possible. A series of kicks rained down on him, and Jongdae tried not to cry out, his father swearing at him all the while. A particularly well-placed kick managed to slip through and planted itself right underneath Jongdae’s ribs, causing the boy to yelp in pain.

His father briefly ceased his attack, and Jongdae wheezed as he attempted to crawl away, only for his father to bring down one of the many half empty beer bottles lying around on his back before issuing another kick to his stomach. Jongdae felt the remainder of the bottle’s putrid contents soak his back and winced at the sting that followed. The repeated blows to his diaphragm made it hard for Jongdae to catch his breath. His body curled in protest as his not yet healed bruises received another round of battery, causing black spots to creep into the edges of his vision.

Jongdae blinked several times, trying to stop his swimming vision when he felt a firm hand grab his shoulder and flip him onto his back, feeling several shards of glass embed themselves between his shoulder blades as he was pushed down. The action was followed by a harsh punch that whipped Jongdae’s head to the side. The room was spinning, and Jongdae was trying to not pass out, but a new flurry of kicks to his torso began, and Jongdae found it harder to draw in a breath with each one.

Jongdae didn’t know how long the attack lasted, but when the beating finally stopped, the world felt like a blur around him. He couldn’t move and his body felt like he had been hit by a train. He faintly registered that the radio was still playing as his father’s fingers harshly intertwined themselves into his hair once again. This time, as he was dragged across the floor, Jongdae didn’t struggle. He could barely move, and he felt like he was underwater, though that didn’t dim the fresh pain that was currently radiating through his scalp.

Jongdae’s father dragged him down the hallway, and Jongdae only registered what was happening when his father opened the door to the cupboard at the end.

“W-Wait,” Jongdae finally found his voice. “Appa, please, no.” His father wrinkled his nose at the plea and slapped him before shoving the boy into the cramped, dark space. Jongdae winced before seeing the door shut, plunging him into darkness, the sound of the lock clicking into place reverberating off the walls.

Jongdae heard heavy footsteps fade away as they moved down the hall, and he was left with only the sound of his labored breathing. Jongdae just lay there for who knows how long, eyes closed, hands clutching his curled up form, trying to block out the waves of pain that emanated from his torso.

Jongdae could hear his father stomping about the kitchen, broken only by the sound of smashing glass as he trashed their already dilapidated home. His limbs began to feel heavy as his body went numb and his mind began sinking, drifting away to the dark recesses until he felt nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment below! And if you like this fic, drop a kudos!


	12. Undertow

For who knows how long, Jongdae drifted in and out of consciousness. It felt like he was trapped in the ocean, desperately gasping for air while being dragged down by the undertow of the tumultuous waves. The crash of waves rumbled around him around him, tormenting him in the darkness, and bitter cold seeped deep into his bones.

Jongdae kicked for the surface, desperate for his head to break the surface, but the icy fingers of the ocean clutched his ankles and pulled him further down into the dark unknown. Everywhere he looked, there was just a vast expanse of dark, empty blue.

Jongdae lost his sense of direction. He didn’t know what was up and what was down. No matter which way he swam, he could feel the pressure building around him until it felt like it would crush his lungs. The pressure grew, and Jongdae could feel his skin splitting open and saltwater poured into every muscle, vein, and bone, causing him to sink further down as walls of impossibly heavy water bore down over his head.

And suddenly, Jongdae’s eyes were open, and he was breathing, musty air forcing itself down his lungs, and while water was not crashing down on his body, waves of pain were. His whole body ached to his core to the point where every movement, down to the stretch of his hastily-expanding lungs across his chest, burned. He could feel the stretch of his torn skin where glass still protruded from between his shoulder blades, and crusty blood caking his back. His breathing was ragged, shallow, and strained.

Jongdae slowly shifted, his body protesting, and his arm was numb from lying on it. He pushed at the door slightly, hoping that it would slowly swing open against his touch. Alas, it remained firmly locked in place, not that he expected much anyway. He gently reached around and softly prodded his back, feeling the edges of the glass that pierced it. Sucking in as deep of a breath as he could manage, Jongdae firmly gripped a shard and tugged. A gasp escaped his tightly-drawn lips as the unforgiving glass slid out, causing a fresh stream of blood to seep down. Jongdae gently tossed the shard away before repeating the process on the other slivers.

By the time he pulled out the last fragment, Jongdae felt utterly drained, as if every drop of blood had been sucked from his body. His eyelids fluttered as he attempted to keep them open, not wanting to be thrown back into that nightmare, back into the middle of that turbulent ocean, but he didn’t have enough strength to fight it, and before long, his mind went blank again.

* * *

Jongdae returned to consciousness again, eyelids crusted over and twitching as they attempted to peel themselves open. His mouth felt incredibly dry, as though his mouth were filled with sand. He could hear a ringing in his ears, but soft and distant sounding. His stomach clenched half-heartedly, as if even it didn’t have the energy to complain properly about how empty it was. Jongdae had no idea how long it had been since he had last eaten; he didn’t even know how long he had been in there. All night, at least, but he had no idea how much beyond that.

Jongdae shifted a little and nudged his foot against the door, pushing slightly. To what would have been Jongdae’s excitement had he not been too drained to feel anything except pure, unadulterated exhaustion, the cupboard door creaked open an inch. Jongdae squinted as dim light poured into his cave. He stayed there for several minutes, just breathing and allowing the soft glow rest on his face. Finally, he summed up the courage and the strength to move. Each limb shifted feebly, popping and cracking from disuse, lurching along the ground as Jongdae struggled to drag himself even a few inches.

He made sluggish progress, needing to rest every minute or so in order to harness what little energy stores he had left. The only consolation during his seemingly mile-long journey was that, as far as Jongdae could tell by the silence of the hut, his father was not home, and thus the brutish man wouldn’t hear the boy’s strained breathing or inelegant, clamorous movements and walk in to find him curled up pathetically in the middle of the hall, battered and broken.

After eternity, especially after Jongdae’s particularly arduous attempt to reach the door handle to his room, Jongdae reached his mattress and collapsed on it, alleviated. After several minutes of heavy breathing, Jongdae reached out and dragged his backpack, which felt like a boulder, closer to the mattress before fumbling with the zip and tugging a mostly empty plastic bottle of water out. His trembling hands slipped off the cap as he opened it carefully, focusing intently in order to not drop it and spill the whole thing once he got it open. When the cap popped off, he shakily brought the bottle to his cracked lips, dribbling half of the first gulp down his chin, causing him to sip the treasured liquid in a painfully restrained manner.

The substance wasn’t particularly cold, as it had spent at least several days growing lukewarm in his bag, and its taste became tinted with iron as it slipped down his throat, but Jongdae guzzled it down as it if were the liquid gold. He wasn’t sure if he imagined it, but some distant part of his mind tasted a slight hint of salt, and his dreams of drowning came flooding back. Jongdae closed his eyes, trying to push the thought from his mind as the last drop drained from the bottle. Dropping it, Jongdae let his body fall back on to the mattress, settling into the least painful position as he drifted into an empty, undreaming sleep.

* * *

When Jongdae cracked his eyes open again, it was fairly dark, with only a feeble yellow light leaking in through the window from the streetlamp. His body still felt tormented, but his brain felt marginally better after the deep sleep. Jongdae slid himself gently over to the wall before pulling himself up and steadying himself with it as he stumbled across the room to the door. He opened the door gently, leaning heavily on the door frame and peered out.

The door to his father’s room was open, and Jongdae could see a corner of the empty bed. There were no lights on in the kitchen, and the radio was off, leading him to conclude that the house was still empty. Jongdae strained down the hall at a crawl’s pace, letting himself into the bathroom where he leaned heavily on the sink.

Gripping the edges of his shirt, Jongdae clenched his teeth as he slowly pulled the fabric up his tender torso and over his head before discarding the blood-crusted, ripped cloth on the floor. As he looked in the mirror, Jongdae’s gaunt and hollow eyes stared back at him. Deep, dark circles lined his bloodshot eyes, and blood lined the cracks in his parched lips. His torso was splotchy, covered in a patchwork of blacks, blues, purples, and yellows. His ribs were starting to show in small indents lining his colorful sides, and Jongdae saw a long streak of brown, encrusted blood that had seeped from his back down his side.

Turning on the sink, Jongdae grabbed a rag and doused it in water before gently rubbing it over his wounds. He stiffly and painstakingly dragged it across each inch of his upper body, trying to wipe away every trace of sweat, blood, and fear that tainted his skin. The rag quickly sullied, but after a while, Jongdae finally felt cleansed. He placed the rag on the counter before closing his eyes and sticking his face in the icy stream that flowed from the faucet.

When he emerged, Jongdae looked into the mirror, face only inches from it. The dark circles remained, and his face seemed more sunken than he was used to, but as sparkling droplets dripped from the tips of his hair, Jongdae thought he saw a glimmer in his eye that had been missing moments ago: one of determination to survive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment below! And if you like this story, drop a kudos!


	13. Average Glamour

Jongdae painstakingly patched himself up, applying cool ointment to his wounds before slowly wrapping gauze around his torso. He guessed that some of the cuts on his back probably needed a few stitches, but he also knew that wasn’t going to happen as he couldn’t reach it himself, so this would have to suffice.

By the time he gingerly hobbled to his room, the sky outside had grown slightly lighter. Glancing at his clock, Jongdae saw that it was just after 5:30 AM. His heart dropped when he saw the glowing letters SAT in the corner of the display. It was Thursday night when he got locked in the cupboard. He had missed school, missed his test. Now he would have to persuade his teacher to let him make it up and find an explanation as to why he missed class. Shit, he also missed a shift at work too. His boss at the bookstore was nice—fatherly even, Jongdae would say if the word “father” weren’t associated with something very different for him—but being a new employee, it doesn’t exactly look good if he misses a shift, especially without calling in or finding someone to make it up.

Jongdae gently slid a t-shirt on, brushed his teeth, threw a little bit of makeup on the bruises on his face, and hurriedly crept out the door, bag slung over one shoulder. It was still cold from the night, the sun’s glow not yet having warmed the air around him, and Jongdae rubbed the goose-bumps on his arms as his frosty breath dissipated into the crisp air. He began the walking towards the bookstore, intending to stand outside and beg the owner not to fire him. At this rate, he would be there an hour before the place opened, but Jongdae didn’t want to stay in that house in case his father decided to make an appearance. No, it was better to wait in the cold.

By the time he reached the store, his backed ached, and he shifted the bag on his shoulder, feeling it pulling at his wounds. He let the rucksack slump to the ground as he collapsed on the bench outside the entrance. Rubbing his hands together, he shivered, mind wandering for an explanation to give.

Jongdae didn’t know how long he had been sitting there before a voice pulled him out of his daze.

“Jongdae?” It was his boss walking towards him. Jongdae leapt out of his seat, standing straight as a board before bowing deeply.

While still bowing, he burst out in a flurry of rapid, hardly intelligible words. “Hyeonjun-shi! Joesonghamnida! P-please don’t fire me. I k-know I missed my s-shift and didn’t call in, but I really n-need this job and please—”

“Jongdae! Jongdae, slow down! Where’s your jacket? God, you’re freezing. Come inside.” He gently took hold of Jongdae’s arm and pulled the boy through the door, shushing Jongdae’s remaining pleas with an alarmed look in his eyes. Hyeonjun lead the still-trembling Jongdae to the back room and plopped him down on the worn couch before moving to start the tea kettle. When he turned back, the boy was staring at his shoes, hands clasped in his lap, looking like a kicked puppy. Hyeonjun hung his coat up before pulling up a chair in front of Jongdae, who’s head sunk even lower than before.

Before Hyeonjun could speak, a soft whisper came from beneath the cascade of dark hair in front of him. “Joesonghamnida.”

Hyeonjun’s expression wavered before he softly said, “Jongdae, I don’t care that you missed your shift yesterday. It’s all right. What I care about is whether or not you're okay.” Jongdae didn’t move. “Jongdae, you’re worrying me. You’re getting thinner and thinner, you sometimes come in as if you’ve been in a fight at school, and now you show up at 6 in the morning in the freezing cold with only a t-shirt. If something’s going on and you need help, you can tell me.”

Jongdae’s eyes watered up a little, and he was thankful that his face was concealed by his hair. He swallowed before quietly saying in a wavering voice, “Everything’s fine.” It was unconvincing, and they both knew it.

The kettle had finished heating up, and Hyeonjun took one last glance at Jongdae before rising to pour two cups of tea with a sigh. “I’m not going to push you on it… For now. And I want you to know that you can tell me when you’re ready.” He walked over and gently pushed the warm mug into the boy’s cold hands, giving his dark hair a soft ruffle as he did so. “Drink that,” he said. “I need to go set up the front of the shop quickly.” Jongdae didn’t move, but as Hyeonjun left, he saw the boy, eyes closed, raise the steaming mug to his lips and take a sip.

* * *

Jongdae and Hyeonjun finished their tea and set up the shop for opening time. Jongdae offered to make up his missed shift, but Hyeonjun just patted him on the shoulder and said, “Thank you, but you’ve helped me enough today. Just go home and rest. You look tired. And I want you wearing a jacket in this weather next time, do you hear me?”

Jongdae put on his most promising smile as he backed out of the shop, only for it to slide right off his face the moment he turned his back. He decided to take the long way back home, trying to put off going back as long as possible. He looped through town, walking through narrow streets, through grassy parks, down the riverbank. The bite of the brisk breeze was enough to distract him from his empty stomach.

He felt out of place, among all the tall buildings and well-dressed people, catching the savory whiff of fresh food at the street stalls, but he didn’t want to leave. The city had a strange “average glamour” to it that represented everything Jongdae wanted to be. Many would consider it too normal, too boring, but for Jongdae, boring was a relief at this point. He dreamed of boring.

It was starting to get dark by the time he finally forced himself to start heading back to the slums where he belonged. Hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched against the cold, he shuffled down the sidewalk, staring in the space in front of his feet, hoping his dad wouldn’t be home when he got there. He didn't even notice the three figures approaching him until a sneering voice drew him out of the fog.

"What are you doing here, freak?" Jongdae's head shot up. Tao, Minchul, and Ilsung stood in front of him. "I mean, come on, a stray dog like you doesn't belong in this part of town," Tao continued.

"Well don't worry, I was just leaving," Jongdae replied, slightly surprised at the strength in his voice.

Jongdae made to move around the trio, but Minchul stuck an arm out, blocking his path. "I don't think so," he said, giving Jongdae a predatory stare under his slick blond bangs.

Tao eyed him up and down, "I'm sure you were. You look like a shivering wreck. You may hang out around here pretending to fit in, but remember that we all know what pathetic street scum you really are." With that, the trio pushed past him, Ilsung giving him a hard shove on the shoulder, knocking Jongdae back several steps. "See you on Monday, bitch," Minchul called behind him as they left.

Jongdae tilted his head back and took a deep breath, watching the resulting icy cloud as it curled up into the sky before he moved down the street again, heading home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment below! And if you like this story, drop a kudos! Thanks!


	14. Play the Game

Jongdae had managed to slip into the house, past his dad who was passed out drunk on the couch and barricaded himself in his room for the rest of the weekend. He distracted himself from the nagging hunger and burning ache on his back by burying his head in his textbook, studying his ass off for the English test he missed. He hardly left the room until he slipped out on Monday morning, backpack in his hand, made-up excuses filling his head. The walk to school was cold; Jongdae noticed early-morning frost starting to dust the top of the grass.

Jongdae arrived at the school early; the hallways were practically deserted. When he reached the classroom, the light was on and Jongdae saw his teacher at the desk through the window’s murky glass. Jongdae took a deep breath, straightened his jacked, and knocked.

“Come in.” Jongdae put on his most apologetic, innocent puppy-dog face as he crossed the threshold. “Jongdae,” his teacher said. “It’s good to see you.”

The boy bowed deeply. “I-I’m so sorry for missing class on Friday, Yang Seonsang-nim. I promise I would n-never skip class if I didn’t have to… It… it was my father.” Jongdae was speaking the truth up to that point—he would never skip class, and it was his father’s fault—but obviously Jongdae couldn’t tell him the whole truth. He hated having to lie when his teacher was looking at him with such compassion in his eyes.

“My father fell very ill. He could barely stand by himself, and it’s just the two of us at home. I had to take him to the hospital and care for him. I-I-I should have called the school’s office from the hospital, b-but I was distracted… I wasn’t sure if my father was going to be okay and we had t-to… we had to figure out how to pay for the medical bills… We don’t have much money, and…”

Jongdae just let himself trail off. The story didn’t exactly come out as planned—he had shared more than he intended to—and Jongdae held his breath slightly as he waited to get caught in his lie, but he didn’t let those downturned innocent eyes waver. After years of practice, Jongdae knew how to keep up a façade, no matter how shit his story was. After a slight pause, his teacher put a gentle hand on Jongdae’s shoulder. Jongdae used all his will power to resist the automatic urge to flinch.

“Jongdae,” his teacher said kindly. “You’re a good kid. I know you try very hard, and I have a feeling you’ve had to deal with a lot more than any kid your age should.” The sentence hit Jongdae to his core. He hoped his teacher didn’t know just right he was.

“Now as I’m sure you know, you did miss a test on Friday.” Jongdae nodded and let his chin sink slightly lower. “But you’re an excellent student, so I’m going to let you make it up.” Jongdae let out a breath. “Knowing you,” his teacher continued, “I assume you’re ready to take it today?”

“Yes, sir,” Jongdae confirmed, looking up.

His teacher nodded, giving him a slight smile. “Good. I have a few other students taking it during the study hour before lunch today. Why don’t you take it then?”

Jongdae gave him another deep bow. “Of course, Seonsang-nim. Thank you so much.”

His teacher smiled and gave him another pat on the shoulder. “Go on, your first class will be starting soon. I’ll see you in a couple hours.”

* * *

Jongdae went to each class, giving every teacher an abbreviated version of the same excuse, apologetic as ever, and each one forgave him without questioning his story too much. Most of them had a soft spot for him. He made sure he was always very respectful, he paid attention in class, and he did his work well. As a result, most of his teachers trusted him, and they were forgiving when he did fall short. He made sure to be extra attentive that day in his classes, just to prove once again that he didn’t miss Friday because he was slacking off.

Jongdae’s last class before the study hour began ended, and Jongdae bolted off to his English classroom. He was the first student there, so Jongdae sat at a desk and pulled out a pen, reviewing the material in his mind.

The door opened and chatter from the hall leaked in as four students strolled over the threshold; of course, it was Dongsuk, Minchul, Ilsung, and Tao. Jongdae kept his eyes on his desk, fiddling with his pen, as if they wouldn’t notice him. They didn’t say anything, but Jongdae didn’t miss the single, breathy scoff Dongsuk gave when he saw Jongdae. They all took their seats, and Jongdae kept his eyes steadily forward until a test was handed to him.

The exam wasn’t particularly difficult. While he hadn’t exactly gotten to spread out his studying over the weekend, he remembered a lot from class, and he had spent hours reviewing yesterday. Just as Jongdae was finishing up the last page, his teacher said, “I need to stop by the office. I will be back in 10 minutes to collect your tests.”

The door clicked shut behind him with finality. Jongdae reread his work, making a few minor adjustments here and there, trying not to move a muscle as the tense silence permeated the room. After a couple minutes, Dongsuk sat up and stared straight at Jongdae, who pretended not to notice. He eyed Jongdae like a cat who had trapped a mouse in the corner and was just messing with it. Minchul and Ilsung kept glancing back and forth, looking like a pair of hyenas ready to pounce. Only Tao was still focused on his exam, just warily glancing up on the occasion to examine the room, analyzing it. That confused Jongdae because it was something he himself did. He had learned over the years to quietly keep tabs on every person in a room. It was how he kept his guard up and ready when it needed to be, but he didn’t understand why Tao, who was part of the school’s top pack, would be doing it.

Dongsuk finally broke the silence, his voice smooth and casual. “Hey, weirdo.” Jongdae didn’t move for a moment, but he couldn’t help quickly glancing at the boy, immediately averting his eyes when he found Dongsuk gazing steadily back at him.

“Yeah, I’m talking to you,” Dongsuk called. Jongdae held his breath and tilted his head slightly towards Dongsuk, his face holding a perfectly passive-aggressive expression that said, _“You should really shut up, but I know you’re not going to_. _”_ Their teacher would be back any minute.

“What are you answers for the multiple-choice section?” Dongsuk asked with a smirk. “You seem like you know what you’re doing. I want to check my answers.”

A careful pause passed before Jongdae replied without turning around, “Tao’s smart. Check your answers off him, if you really want to.”

Dongsuk chuckled. “That’s not the point… The point is that I asked you for something, and you’re going to roll over like a good dog and give it to me." He leaned forward, gazing intently. "You see, there seems to be some sort of problem between my crew and you, and I’d like to get it sorted. You just want to be left alone, right? Well you start playing our game, and we’ll be happy to play along with you.”

He paused for a moment to let Jongdae evaluate his position before repeating with a smile, “So, how about those multiple-choice answers then?”

Jongdae let several seconds pass before looking Dongsuk in the eyes and quietly saying, “Like I said, ask Tao.”

Dongsuk’s smile faded. “I don’t think you understand the rules of the game…”

Jongdae interrupted him before he could continue. “No, I understand exactly how this game works. You claim that if I scratch your back, give you what you want, you’ll leave me in peace. But we both know that’s not how it’s going to go. I give you what you want this time, then you’ll just want something else, and then something else, over and over again. There’s no end. You may have the rest of the damn school willing to lay down at your feet whenever you damn please, but I know that your stupid little game has no end. You won’t leave me alone either way, so pardon me if I keep a little personal integrity while I’m at it.”

Damn, Jongdae didn’t know where that came from. He looked at the four faces staring back. He had even managed to capture Tao’s attention, who strangely had a surprised look and a hint of an impressed smile on his face. Minchul on the other hand looked pissed, and to Jongdae’s dismay, he stood up and prowled closer.

“You little bitch. Who do you think you are talking to us like that, huh?” Minchul pulled Jongdae out of his seat and threw him on the floor, causing Jongdae’s head to smack against a desk. He felt his lip split, and he tasted blood.

Dongsuk pushed Minchul back several steps. “Minchul, you idiot.”

At that moment, their teacher reentered the room, alarmed to see Jongdae on the floor, bleeding. “Jongdae! Are you alright?” he exclaimed. “What happened?!” he asked, looking around at everyone in the room.

“He tripped,” Tao spoke up quickly. “Stood up to put his test on your desk and got dizzy or something. Hit the desk on the way down.” The other boys were nodding in confirmation.

The teacher glanced at Jongdae again before turning to the four other boys. “You four put your tests on my desk then go to lunch,” he ordered before helping Jongdae up and sitting him in a chair. The four did as they were told, throwing Jongdae a mixture of smirks and threatening glares as they left. He supposed they were slightly worried he would tell the truth about what happened, but Jongdae knew that wouldn’t end well.

His teacher passed him a tissue before giving him a meaningful look. “What happened, Jongdae?” he said quietly.

“Tao already said—“

“I know what Tao said. I’m asking you what happened.”

Jongdae swallowed shakily. “I stood up, felt dizzy, and tripped. Split my lip on the desk. I think I’m just tired from this weekend. I’m fine.”

His teacher gave him an appraising stare for a minute. “Jongdae, if there’s anything going on, you can tell me. I can help.”

Jongdae felt a pang in his chest, which momentarily forced him into silence before he finally forced his voice to work. “There’s nothing. Everything’s fine.” He had forced that particular lie through enough times, he hoped it was practiced enough to sound true.

It took everything Jongdae had to not look away from his teacher’s eyes, but it felt like they were looking deep into his soul, examining every inch of it. Finally, his teacher sighed. “Well if there is anything, you can always come to me.” Jongdae could tell his teacher still felt there was something, but he wasn’t going to push it, much to Jongdae’s relief.

“Do you still feel dizzy? Lightheaded? Anything like that?” Jongdae shook his head. “Okay, well go to lunch then. Eat plenty, drink lots of water, and take it easy. I want you to go straight to the nurse if you start feeling worse. Take care of yourself, okay?” Jongdae nodded, thanked his teacher, and slipped out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment below! And if you like this story, drop a kudos!


	15. Stay Down

Jongdae left the classroom to find the hallways deserted, everyone having already made their way to lunch. With an anxious intake of breath, Jongdae shuffled along, hurrying to his locker, not wanting to get caught on his own. His footsteps echoed slightly down the tiled corridor, and Jongdae was almost to his locker when he rounded the corner…. And pulled up short, coming face-to-face with none other than Kang Minchul, with Ilsung standing right behind him. Fucking hell, can he not catch even a moment’s break?

Jongdae tried to back up, but Minchul grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and swung him around, shoving him into the wall. “Well, well, look who came to play,” he jeered. Jongdae squirmed, trying to edge away, but Minchul placed his hand firmly against the wall, blocking Jongdae in. “What did you tell Yang?”

“N-nothing,” Jongdae replies meekly, knowing the answer wouldn’t be satisfactory. “I d-didn’t tell him anything, I s-swear.”

With a snort of disbelief, Ilsung casually strolled forward, snatching Jongdae’s bag before sending it flying across the hallway, where it hit the opposite wall and fell to the ground with a crash. As Ilsung closed in on him, Jongdae panicked and tried to duck out from behind Minchul, hoping that if he could get out from being cornered, he might be able to run to safety.

Jongdae had no such luck however, and he was quickly grabbed by the shoulder and thrown back against the wall, this time followed by a punch. The blow caught Jongdae in the nose, and he felt the warm gush of fresh blood flowing down his face. He had only just got his split lip to stop bleeding, but that had apparently been futile.

“You little bitch,” Minchul sneered. “Why should we believe you? You’ll regret it if you’re lying to us.”

Jongdae was pulled upright, only to be met with another blow to the mouth. It was soon followed by a punch to the stomach, which made Jongdae double over again, clutching his torso and wheezing. He already had enough bruises there, and this wasn’t helping. While Jongdae was hunched over, the boys took the opportunity to push him to the floor, before one delivered a harsh kick to his side.

“You better not have said anything, kid, or next time we won’t hold back,” Ilsung called.

They turned and began to walk away, thinking their job of intimidation was done, before a groan grabbed their attention. Their gaze fell upon Jongdae, who was slowly trying to stand up, one hand on the wall for support.

“Give up. Stay down,” threatened Ilsung.

Jongdae refused, only replying by straightening up all the way. That flicker of determination he felt two days ago wasn’t going to let him give up now. He couldn’t stop them from hurting him, but he wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of staying down. Face pinched in anger, Minchul slammed him into the wall, pinning Jongdae to it with one hand, the other pulled back in a fist.

“What did we just say?!” he shouted, and Jongdae closed his eyes, flinching at the blow to come.

“Yah! Jongdae!” a voice called down the hall. All three boys froze and turned to the sound of the voice in surprise. Walking towards them was a group of four boys. Jongdae recognized one of them from class—that tall, lanky figure… it was… Chanyeol—but he didn’t know any of the others apart from seeing them in passing in the hallway. As the boys sauntered up, Minchul and Ilsung turned to face them, releasing their grip on Jongdae, but keeping him trapped between them.

“Jongdae-ya, I didn’t see you in class on Friday, where were you?” Chanyeol said as he approached, voice casual, almost cheerful, but he wasn’t looking at Jongdae, instead maintaining icy eye contact with Minchul the entire time as he came closer. When the group reached them, Minchul and Ilsung moved back a bit, wary-eyed, and one of Chanyeol’s friends—the tall, slim, blond one inserted himself next to Jongdae, throwing an arm around his tense, hunched shoulders. A muscular boy with cat-like eyes came and stood next to Jongdae on the other side, hands nonchalantly slung in his pockets, but his facial expression was anything but casual. Chanyeol towered in front of Minchul, staring him down, with the last boy, with wine red and black hair, retrieved Jongdae’s bag from the floor, slinging it over one shoulder before standing face-to-face with Ilsung, giving him a glare that could have stopped Death itself in its tracks.

“Come on, you’re eating lunch with us today,” one of the boys said. Before anyone had a chance to reply, the tall, blond one with his arm around Jongdae’s shoulder started walking, not really giving Jongdae a choice as he led him out from the circle and down the hall, the other three boys flanking them. Jongdae nervously shifted under the blond boy’s arm, practically getting dragged down the hallway by it. He didn’t know these guys, and he didn’t really want to go with them, unsure of their motives, but then again, he didn’t really want to stay in that hallway either. Remembering his first day, Jongdae thought he could probably trust Chanyeol not to hurt him, but the frigid glare he had just seen the Giant dole out did not reassure him.

They made for the double doors that lead to the back field, and Jongdae let out a breath of air in relief as he saw that he wasn’t being dragged off to some secluded area, that there were people out there.

As they made their way to the lunch tables, the boy with red and black hair peered over at Jongdae with a look much kinder than the stare he had given Ilsung. “You okay?” he asked. Jongdae only managed a nod, eyes focused intently at his feet, shoulders hunched defensively. He failed to notice the worried glances that the four boys exchanged in response.

They reached a big table where three other boys were already sitting. The one on the bench closest to them scooted over, and the tall boy with his arm around Jongdae’s shoulder gently, but firmly pushed him into a seat.

As he sat, an alarmed voice coming from the boy sitting diagonal from Jongdae cried, “What the hell happened?!” Jongdae realized that he was probably quite the sight, given all the blood dripping down his face and onto his clothes. Another boy from the table passed Jongdae some napkins, which Jongdae gratefully used to stem the flow of blood currently making its steady way out of his throbbing nose.

“Minchul and Ilsung happened,” Chanyeol replied as he took a seat to Jongdae’s left, the tall, blond boy sitting on Jongdae’s other side. The boy with the death glare dropped Jongdae’s backpack on the ground near him, before he and the boy with the cat eyes moved to sit across from them.

“Let me see your nose,” the cat-eyed boy said, leaning forward across the table. Jongdae hesitantly removed the napkins, already soaked with blood, from his face.

The boy gently touched Jongdae’s face, carefully prodding and inspecting. Jongdae inhaled sharply as one particular prod sent a shock of pain through his nose. The boy gave him an apologetic glance before pulling away. “Well, I don’t think it’s broken,” he said, sitting back down. “It’ll hurt for a while, though. I’m Minseok, by the way,” the boy said with a friendly smile.

“Jongdae,” he replied quietly. “Thanks for helping me,” he said, timidly glancing at the other boys who had rescued him.

“Any time,” the tall, blond one next to him replied. “I’m Sehun,” he added with a nod.

“Kyungsoo,” said the one with red and black hair, giving a small wave. "You sure you're okay?"

“Y-Yeah,” replied Jongdae, hesitantly and in an unconvincing tone.

“Yah! What the hell?! They can’t just go around beating people up like this!” the blond boy sitting at the end of the table said angrily, accidentally knocking his water bottle over onto the tanned boy sitting across from him in the process.

“Yah! Baekhyun!” the tanned boy shouted.

“Yah! Jongin!” Baekhyun mimicked in reply.

“Yah! Both of you!” the last boy scolded them, reaching across Chanyeol to hand Jongdae more napkins.

“Thanks….” Jongdae began.

“Junmyeon,” the boy replied with a reassuring smile. “And if you ever need anything, you can come to us, okay?” Jongdae just nodded, applying more napkins to his face, knowing that he would never ask them for anything. Jongdae knew better than to drag them into his problems. If they got involved, they’d only find out more and more, and Jongdae couldn’t have them learning about his life outside of school. Besides, they’d probably get tired of dealing with his shit anyway.

“Jongdae-ya, did you eat already?” Baekhyun asked.

“Um, yeah,” Jongdae lied. “I ate before… Um…” He trailed off, merely gesturing to his face instead, averting his gaze. He really wished they would stop asking him questions.

For once, the world heard Jongdae’s prayers, because at that moment, the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. Jongdae stood up quickly, ignoring the way his sore body protested the sudden movement.

He grabbed his bag, telling the group, “Thanks again for your help,” before turning and walking back into the school’s now-crowded corridors, nervously keeping his eyes down as some students turned their heads at the sight of his still slightly-bloody face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Thank you for your support! Please leave a comment below, and if you like this story, drop a kudos!


	16. All Alone

Over the next several weeks, Jongdae tried to keep his head down as much as possible, yet just he seemed to be getting more and more attention. Dongsuk and his crew took every opportunity to throw him a glare or a snide remark, punctuated by a shove into the wall or something of that nature.

On top of that, Chanyeol’s friends seemed to be popping up everywhere, with a smile and a, “Hey, Jongdae! How’s it going?” He wasn’t used to all the attention. He had jumped three feet out of his skin that time Minseok came up to him at his locker and announced his presence to Jongdae by throwing an arm around his shoulders. Sehun didn’t stop laughing for a solid five minutes. More and more often, they were also dragging Jongdae to eat lunch with them, and he was running out of excuses as to why he didn’t always bring food. They even started sitting by him in the classes they shared.

The more Chanyeol’s friends were around him, the harder Jongdae found it to hide everything. Obviously, between random bouts of crazy banter, someone would ask Jongdae a question, just casually making small talk, but he couldn’t exactly let on too much about his life outside of school, could he? He also had to be a lot more careful about covering up his injuries. Not only were they more likely to see him wince or notice the edge of a bruise peeking out from his shirt, but they were also much more likely to ask him about it. Even if they assumed it was Minchul or someone, Jongdae didn’t want to cause any trouble. They seemed to consider him one of their own now—and Jongdae had to admit, a part of him was happy about that. He had developed a soft spot for them.

Before long, Jongdae was starting to go out and meet them during lunch, even on the days they didn’t catch him at his locker. Jongdae knew it was a dangerous line to walk on, but he couldn’t help it. For once in his life, there were people who seemed to care about him, people who took interest in him and didn’t want anything in return. Even if he didn’t think it would last, Jongdae couldn’t help but gravitate towards it.

* * *

On an otherwise-uneventful day, Jongdae was just about to leave his last class—English—when his teacher called him over. He warily waited as the classroom emptied, but as the door shut behind the last student, Jongdae saw that his teacher had a smile on his face.

“Jongdae, I have a proposition for you,” he said. “You’re one of my best students in the senior class. I’m starting a study group for my 9th year students, and I wanted to know if you would be willing to help tutor them. It would be during the midday study hour, and the school would be able to pay you a small sum for your time.”

Jongdae’s mind was whirling. On the one hand, the study hour was really useful to Jongdae for getting his homework done, has he didn’t exactly have buckets of free time outside school between the three part-time jobs and the regular beatings.

On the other hand, it was extra money. Jongdae wouldn’t even need to find an excuse to hide it from his dad because it was during school hours, plus he needed any money he could get. Winter was descending fast on Seoul, and he still didn’t have enough to buy a jacket. He’d had to split what little savings he had, allotting some of it to buy food for himself. His dad was going through money faster than he used to, and at this point, the money Jongdae had to hand over wasn’t enough to feed two, even if one was barely eating in the first place.

Unfortunately, their dwindling funds also put his dad more on edge. If Jongdae thought his dad was bad when he blew their budget on booze and hookers to his heart’s content, it was nothing compared to when he couldn’t get what he wanted. His dad started to get angry when he saw the meager amount of bills Jongdae would leave on the kitchen counter, even though it was no less than before. If he ran out of alcohol, he would vent by screaming and throwing empty bottles at Jongdae’s head. The rage wasn’t anything new for Jongdae, but as it became more frequent, it became harder and harder for Jongdae to recover. His old injuries were never healed by the time he received new ones.

“I don’t expect you to decide right now, but think on it and let me know sometime in the next few days, okay?” his teachers voice drifted back to him.

Jongdae bit his lip before looking up at his teacher. “I would love to help out and tutor them, sir.” When it came down to it, this was more income, and that was all Jongdae really needed to know.

“Are you sure you don’t want a few days to think it over?” his teacher said, but he was smiling.

“I’m sure, sir. Thank you for this opportunity,” Jongdae replied with a small bow.

“Well I’m glad to hear it. And if you do change your mind at any time, just let me know, okay? I understand that things can get busy and a bit too much sometimes.”

“I will, sir. Thank you again.” Jongdae bowed one more time and left. The halls were deserted, every student having fled as quickly as possible once their classes ended. Jongdae packed his homework up, the slam of his locker door echoing down the hall.

When he got outside, Jongdae’s heart sunk as his eyes fell on four very familiar figures on the basketball court. Their tall figures and the shock of platinum blond hair on one made them especially unmistakable. The court was right next to the school gate; Jongdae would have to pass right by it to get out.

Shifting his bag higher on his shoulder, Jongdae gritted his teeth and ducked his head, moving forward briskly but not too quick. If he tried to down-right sprint out, they’d notice him immediately. No, best to just keep his head down and act natural. Unfortunately, keeping his eyes forward also meant that Jongdae didn’t see the basketball whizzing through the air until it collided with the side of his head, knocking him to the side and leaving his ear ringing. Jongdae straightened, hand pressed to his head, as the four boys approached him, smirks smeared across their faces.

“’Sup, twerp?” Dongsuk asked. Jongdae ignored him and kept moving towards the gate, only to get cut off by Ilsung and Minchul, who pushed him back a bit to make sure Jongdae knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

“What’s the rush?” Tao asked, sounding almost bored. He watched Jongdae with a laid-back, but curious glint in his eyes, wondering what the boy would do next.

“I have somewhere I need to be,” Jongdae replied tightly.

“Well you seemed to take your time leaving the school, so it can’t be that urgent,” Dongsuk chided.

“We noticed you’ve been hanging around that big-eared giant and his little buddies. So what’s the deal? They help you out of a tight spot and you become their little pet, lapping at their feet?” Minchul scoffed. Jongdae didn’t reply, and they didn’t seem to care.

“Well where are you pretty-boy friends now, huh?” Dongsuk hooted, throwing his arms out, sweeping across the empty school yard. “Gone. It’s just you, all by yourself, like it will always be.” Minchul gave Jongdae another shove, this time with enough force to throw Jongdae to the ground, scraping his forearms against the concrete. Jongdae still didn’t say a word.

“Come on,” Tao hummed. “Are you just going to sit there? Do you only grow a backbone when you know someone else is coming to save you?” The boy didn’t move, eyes just staring at the ground, frozen. Tao gave a flustered sigh. “Pathetic. You look like a wet puppy shivering in the middle of the road, waiting to get run over. You know, you actually surprised me last time, but I guess you don’t have the stamina to stand on your own damn two feet. Don't act surprised when you get stepped on.”

For emphasis, Ilsung decided to highlight Tao’s words by swinging his foot into Jongdae’s stomach, causing the boy to erupt into a series of breathless coughs, clutching his torso. Minchul jumped on and planted a foot on Jongdae’s back, shoving him back to the ground. Jongdae felt his bag get yanked away as someone else wrenched his arms behind his back, a knee digging into his spine. A hand wove tightly into his hair, shoving his face to the ground too hard, banging his head against the concrete with a crack. Jongdae’s vision went fuzzy for several seconds, and his head pounded as blood flowed to the point of impact, oozing out of a cut on his temple.

The weight on top of his disappeared. Jongdae tried to stand up, but the world reeled around him. Two pairs of hands grabbed him on either side, pulling him upright. Jongdae’s vision cleared to see Dongsuk right in front of him. He noticed Tao over Dongsuk’s shoulder, standing several feet back, arms crossed, face deadpan. Then Dongsuk’s fist struck Jongdae’s diaphragm once, twice, over and over until Jongdae could hardly breathe. He barely heard someone shouting across the field, didn’t see the blond-haired figure running across the field towards them. He felt himself slide out of Minchul and Ilsung’s grip, collapsing at their feet as they stepped over him to address the newcomer. He vaguely heard yelling as Jongdae tried to get his brain to function properly. He watched four figures sulk off as one pair of feet got closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all! Thank you for your continued support. If you like this story, drop a kudos, and please leave a comment letting me know your thoughts on this story!
> 
> P.S. We get to meet the remaining members of Exo in the next chapter, so get ready!


	17. Threshold

Jongdae felt a gentle hand shaking his shoulder, and a voice swam through the fog in his head. “Hey. Hey, are you okay? Can you hear me?” Jongdae shakily nodded his head, blinking to clear his vision. A face came into view, eyes tinted with deep concern, and a mouth pulled into a slight frown. Jongdae was pretty sure the kid was one of the international students at the school, certain he even had a class or two with the boy, but his mind moved like molasses and he couldn’t quite match the face with a name.

“Your head’s bleeding a lot,” the blond boy said. “Can you stand?” Jongdae was pretty sure he nodded again, but the dizziness may have just given him the illusion of moving his head. The blond boy wove an arm around Jongdae’s back, helping him off the ground and propping him up.

“We better get that checked out.” Jongdae shook his head avidly to that, even though it made his head spin viciously. He feebly pulled away slightly, but he wasn’t in a state to yank himself away from the strong, steady grip; that and he probably would fall flat on his face the moment he did. “Come on, my hyung is studying to be a doctor. We live just around the corner. He can check you out and see if we need to take you to the hospital. I’m not just letting you walk away with a head wound like that.” And without waiting for a reply, the blonde boy started gently walking Jongdae out the school gates, scooping up the injured boy’s backpack from the ground along the way. Jongdae eventually managed to get his feet to work, but he still felt like the world was pitching side to side and he was grateful that the boy was there to keep him upright.

Before Jongdae could collect his drifting thoughts and become lucid enough convince the blond boy that he was fine, they arrived at a small apartment complex. After a difficult journey up three flights of stairs, the blond boy unlocked one of the doors and half-guided, half-dragged Jongdae into the apartment. The smell of something cooking on the stove hit Jongdae like a train and made his stomach twist in longing.

A deep voice came from the kitchen. “ _Luhan, shì nǐ ma? Wǒ kāishǐ dānxīn. (Luhan, is that you? I was starting to worry).”_ Unable to understand, for a brief moment Jongdae considered that maybe he had hit his head harder than he first thought before his scrambled brain told him they weren't speaking Korean.

“ _Yifan_ ,” the boy—Luhan, the name clicked in Jongdae’s head—replied, the foreign words flowing smoothly off his tongue, despite his struggle to navigate Jongdae down the narrow hall. “ _Shì Yíxīng jiā?_ _Wǒ xūyào tā de bāngzhù. (Yifan, is Yixing home? I need his help)._ ”

“ _Tā bù zàijiā. Nǐ hái hǎo ma? (He’s not home yet. Are you okay?)”_ The owner of the voice, a tower of a man who stood probably a solid 15 cm taller than Jongdae poked his head around the corner. “ _Fāshēngle shénme?! (What happened?!)_ ” he exclaimed, rushing over to help pull Jongdae to the couch.

“Get him some water or something. I’m going to call Yixing and make sure he’s on his way,” the man said to Luhan, switching to Korean for Jongdae's benefit, before dashing off as the injured boy sunk back into the cushions.

Luhan appeared holding a glass of water and a damp cloth. “Here, put this on your head.”

“Thanks,” Jongdae muttered as he gently placed the cloth on his forehead, putting a small amount of pressure in an attempt to cull the bleeding, and took a sip from the glass. The cool feeling seemed to help clear up his head more.

The other man—had Luhan called him Yifan a moment ago?—came back into the room, carrying a small first aid kit, as the sound of the front door opening then closing carried into the apartment, followed by nimble footsteps down the hall. Another boy—Yixing, presumably—hurried into the living room, dropping his bag on the floor before coming around the couch to crouch in front of Jongdae.

“ _Fāshēngle shénme? (What happened?)_ ” Yixing said incredulously to Luhan, eyes wide with surprise. He gently took the cloth from Jongdae and pulled it away, examining the wound intently. Jongdae felt his muscles tense up slowly as he stared at the floor. He hated having this many people staring at him so closely.

Luhan answered the question in Chinese, and Jongdae’s tired brain didn’t even try to follow.

“Are you dizzy at all?” Yixing asked.

“…A little. It’s better than it was before.” Jongdae replied wearily. He briefly considered the fact that maybe he should lie and pretend it’s all fine to try to dissuade them from taking him to the hospital, but he didn’t have the energy to make it convincing. Given how much it was bleeding, they probably wouldn’t have believed him anyway. Jongdae knew from experience that head wounds bled a lot, even if they weren’t too serious, but even he had to admit that this looked pretty bad.

“Okay, I need you to look at me straight in the eyes. I need to look at your pupils.”

Jongdae looked up to find Yixing peering back at him, scrutinizing his eyes. Jongdae swallowed uncomfortably, but he held still, following the other's instructions until the other boy finally leaned back.

“Well, I’m quite surprised, but I don’t think you have a concussion. You might still feel a little woozy for a while, and you’ll probably get some killer headaches for the next couple days, but nothing a little Advil and a lot of rest can’t fix.”

* * *

After Yixing had finished bandaging Jongdae’s head, he packed up the first aid kit while Jongdae and Luhan complained to each other about the lab report they had due in biology next week.

Yixing walked over and leaned on the kitchen counter next to Yifan and crossed his arms. “He’s thin. Too thin,” he whispered, eyes pulled tight with worry. They both peered over and looked at the pale, sickly-looking boy, eyes washing over the dark circles under his eyes, his slightly hollowed out cheeks, the bones around his collar jutting out, pulling his skin tight over them, a tight smile on his lips as he talked to Luhan. Their eyes met again in silent agreement that something more was going on.

“Ya, Jongdae,” Yifan called, he and Yixing both whipping smiles onto their faces as the boy turned to them. “You’re staying for dinner tonight. Don’t even try to protest, we’re not letting you leave until you’ve eaten something.”

Jongdae’s lips parted, an objection already on the tip of his tongue, but something stopped him. Maybe it was the fortitude with which Yifan said it, maybe it was the kind smiles pointed at him from across the kitchen, maybe it was just the nagging pull from his stomach, but Jongdae just let his mouth fall closed and nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all! Woohoo, more Exo members! 
> 
> Please leave a comment below letting me know your thoughts, and if you like this story, please drop a kudos!


	18. Slums

Over dinner, Jongdae learned that none of the three Chinese boys were actually related, which had been his initial inkling. Yifan had come to Seoul originally to go to University, and he ended up staying to work after he graduated. He and Yixing had met and became friends during college; Yixing was there for medical school. They split rent on the cheapest apartment they could find, and due to its close proximity to the high school, they heard that the school was offering families money to host international students, which was how Luhan came into the picture.

Jongdae was thankful that Yifan kept the conversation going, as he was focused on coming across as normal, keeping his answers vague, and trying to not get distracted by the warm black bean soup that filled his contented stomach. Yifan had served him a massive portion, and while Jongdae wasn’t sure his starved, shrunken stomach could fit all of it, he was going to damn well try, and he planned to savor every single bite along the way. After all, it probably was the best meal he would get for a long time.

Then, Luhan asked him a question that caught him by surprise. “Ya, Jongdae, you’re friends with Sehun and Minseok, right?”

“Y-Yeah… Are you?” Jongdae replied, surprised that the other boy had noticed.

“The three of us play soccer after school when the weather’s nice and we don’t have too much work. You should join us some time. Occasionally, we get Jongin and Baekhyun to join in too.”

“I have to admit, I’m not very good at sports.” He wasn’t actually _that_ bad at sports, but he was usually too injured to even play.

“Well, neither is Yixing, but that doesn’t always stop him!” Luhan joked, a mischievous grin plastered across his face.

“Hey!” Yixing chided, but his fake scowl was subverted by the snickering from both Luhan and Yifan. Jongdae couldn’t help but smile a little bit.

“But really,” Luhan said, returning to Jongdae, “you should join us some time.”

Jongdae nodded, giving that tight-lipped smile before turning his eyes down again.

* * *

After dinner, Jongdae tried helping clean up only for Yixing to shoo him away from the sink, insisting that Jongdae was their guest, so he and Luhan worked on math homework instead, a subject that neither enjoyed. By the time they were finished, Jongdae realized it was dark outside.

“I should get going,” he said, nervously. If his dad was around, he'd probably be furious that Jongdae hadn’t come home. “Thank you so much for everything.”

“Of course. I’ll drive you home.” Yifan said, already moving for the keys.

“It’s alright, it’s really not far, and I walk from school all the time. You’ve already done so much for me already, you really don’t need to,” Jongdae said quickly.

“No, I’ll take you. You shouldn’t be walking around alone at night,” Yifan insisted.

“Especially with that head of yours,” Yixing interjected.

“It’s no problem, really,” Yifan reassured, moving towards the door. Jongdae’s mind raced as he realized that he was not going to change the man’s mind. After bidding goodbye to Luhan and Yixing, he followed the Yifan out the door, downstairs, and into the car.

“Where too?” Yifan said, giving Jongdae a reassuring smile.

“Uhh… Head East, in the direction of Gangnam,” Jongdae replied, navigating Yifan closer and closer to home as they made casual conversation, all the while Jongdae’s mind struggled to figure out how to get out of the situation. Finally, as they got closer, the streets began changing from main roads to smaller side streets that got narrower and narrower.

“Um, you can just drop me off here… We’re really close, and the streets just get narrower, so it’s kind of hard to do a U-turn,” Jongdae said pathetically, already knowing that the desperate excuse wouldn’t work.

“I’ll just take you all the way. I don’t like the idea of leaving you here in the street. Which way up here?” Yifan replied, stopping as the road split.

There was no reply, and Yifan looked over to see the boy staring at his hands in his lap, shoulders curled in, looking like he wanted to disappear. He was pretty sure he even saw a blush creep up the boy’s ears, despite the darkness.

“Jongdae?” The boy didn’t look up. “Hey, you don’t have to be ashamed of anything,” Yifan reassured, putting the car into park before placing a gentle hand on the kid’s tense shoulder. He knew this was a poorer part of town, and he could tell just by the kid’s appearance that his family was not well off. “We all have our battles to fight. I’m not one to judge someone else based on something as little as where they live. Now if you don’t want to show me, I will sit here all night with you if I have to, but I’m not about to just leave you here.”

Neither Yifan nor Jongdae moved for several minutes, Jongdae staring into space, torn by an internal struggle, Yifan scanning the younger boy’s face, searching for any hint as to what might be going on in his head. Finally, the kid nodded slightly and whispered, “Left.”

Yifan patted the boy’s shoulder with a sad smile before putting the car back into drive and turning left. A couple minutes later, they pulled up to the curb in front of the slums of Guryong. Yifan could see the busy highway on the other side of the encampment, and beyond that stood the sparkling, luxurious buildings of Gangnam, glittering in contrast to the depressing make-shift shacks before him.

“Thanks, again,” Jongdae mumbled as he opened the car door.

“Yeah,” Yifan said, sad eyes scanning over the rundown village before looking at the boy. “And Jongdae, if you ever need anything, we’re you know where to find us, yeah?”

“Yeah… Thanks again,” Jongdae replied, hauling his backpack onto his shoulder, struggling to mask his dying urge to get out of there. The car door closed, and the boy walked away, but Yifan didn’t drive off immediately, eyes following the boy until he disappeared into the dark alleys of the slums.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another day, another chapter...
> 
> Let me know your thoughts on this story in the comments below! And if you like it, please drop a kudos, and recommend it to your fellow fanfic-loving friends!


	19. Cloud 9

The next day at school, Jongdae didn’t see any of his friends until lunch. They didn’t share any classes that morning, and he had been avoiding them in the halls, but just his luck, Minseok was waiting at his locker for him before lunch.

“H-Hey, Min…” Jongdae said as he approached, keeping his head down, trying to turn the injured half away. Though he had tried to cover up the mark from yesterday, there was a long red gash that makeup wouldn't hide.

“Hey—what happened!?” Minseok exclaimed, catching sight of the injury immediately.

“It’s n-nothing. I… I just tripped and hit my head, that’s all,” Jongdae shrugged, trying to dissuade further conversation about it. He had already spent the day poorly explaining it away to his teachers, and he hoped to minimize the number of people he talked to about it.

“You sure you’re okay? It doesn’t look great,” the older boy inspected.

“It’s fine, I promise. I’m just clumsy,” Jongdae reassured, flashing a smile to convince him.

“If you say so. Come on, let’s head to lunch!”

“Actually, I think I’m going to skip today. I’ve got some work I need to get done,” Jongdae lied, hoping to avoid repeating the same awkward conversation with the rest of the boys.

“Nonsense!” Minseok insisted. “You have to eat, Jongdae. You can work over lunch, but you’re coming with me.” And with that, he dragged the other outside.

Jongdae then had to sell more-or-less (well, just less really, as he tried to skim over details) the same story the other boys. “It was just an accident,” he repeated for the sixth time. Most of them accepted it, but Sehun was still giving him a look that Jongdae interpreted to mean he didn’t quite buy it. Thankfully, the rest of the group had moved on in the conversation. Crisis averted.

Jongdae spent the rest of the lunch period half-working, half-listening to the conversation, laughing at the various jibes everyone threw out at each other, doing his best to convince everyone that he was fine. It was a Daejong Award-worthy performance in his mind.

Ten minutes before lunch period ended, Jongdae looked up, only to have his heart drop. Luhan was walking towards their table. He was the only one here who knew the truth about yesterday.

Jongdae prepared to speak, trying to figure out how to stop Luhan from saying anything, when one of the other boys at the table piped up first.

“Ya, Luhan, how’s it going? You joining us for soccer after school?” Minseok chimed. “Sehun here’s convinced he’s taking me down.”

“Psh, only if he picks me for his team,” Luhan smirked confidently.

“Excuse me?” Sehun bristled. “Have you seen him play against me? He doesn’t stand a chance, even with you on his team.”

“We’ll see about that” Minseok retorted.

The Chinese boy turned his attention to Jongdae, who tried to give an imperceptible shake of his head as Luhan said, “Jongdae, how are you doing?”

“Great! Never better,” he quickly replied, pleading with his eyes for Luhan to leave it at that.

“How do you two know each other?” Sehun asked, one eyebrow cocked.

“Bio class,” Jongdae spoke up quickly before Luhan could even open his mouth. “We have bio together. How’s the lab report coming along, Luhan?”

Thankfully, Luhan took the hint and accepted the change in subject. “Ugh, I’m almost done. I can’t wait until it’s over. Why do we even need to learn that stuff anyway? I know I’m not going to ever use it again after high school.”

“I know, right!?!?” Baekhyun chimed in. And that was all it took for Baekhyun to launch into a tirade on the matter, and Jongdae was in the clear. He was able to steer through the rest of lunch without notice, but as they were heading back inside, Luhan called over to him.

“Jongdae!”

_Damn it_ , Jongdae thought. “Yeah?” he replied with his best nothing-to-see-here smile. “You joining us after school?” Jongdae thanked the stars; he was still alright.

“Come on, Jongdae! You have to come!” exclaimed Jongin.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Jongdae ventured. He didn't have work that day, so he had more time for homework. Plus, his dad had left last night carrying his rucksack, which he only did if he was planning to be out gambling. He wouldn’t be back for at least a couple days.

Jongdae’s response warranted cheers from Baekhyun and Chanyeol, and even Kyungsoo cracked a smile at their reaction.

* * *

After their last class, Jongdae and Junmyeon walked out to the soccer field together, where some of the other boys were already splitting into teams. Minseok had Luhan and Junmyeon on his team, while Sehun had Jongin and Baekhyun.

Kyungsoo had just begun to peel himself away from the group, making for the bleachers, when Minseok said, “Soo, you playing?” The flame-haired boy stared at him with those wide eyes before giving him a curt shake of the head, causing the group to burst out in laughter.

“What about you, Jongdae?” Jongin added.

“I think I’m going to follow Kyungsoo’s lead this time,” he replied, gesturing to the side. “Well we need someone to even out the team, because Chanyeol’s the last player!” Baekhyun whined.

“Nah, I’ll sit out too,” Chanyeol grinned. “I want to watch Sehun get decimated by you guys.” The aforementioned blond boy threw a scowl at the giant’s back as he walked away, which amused Minseok greatly, much to Sehun’s chagrin.

The pick-up game began, and Jongdae had to admit, Sehun had quite the adversaries to overcome, but he wasn’t convinced that his team wasn’t good enough to win nonetheless. Jongdae watched as the boys sprinted back and forth across the field, and Chanyeol started providing commentary like one of those over-the-top Spanish sports newscasters.

“And Byun is coming down the sideline, he’s moving quick, but OH! Kim Minseok swoops in for the steal! Team Sehun is scrambling to recover from that one, Minseok’s approaching the goal, they can’t catch up, and GOOOOOOAAAAAAAALLLLLLL!!!!!!” he shouts, throwing his arms in the air, practically falling backwards off his seat.

Jongdae actually found himself laughing out loud. Everything was perfect. The sun was shining, he was surrounded by kind people, and for once, the cramps in his stomach was from laughing too hard rather than hunger. For not even a brief second, but a blissful hour, Jongdae didn’t spare a thought to the other side of his life, the side he hid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all liked this chapter! If you are enjoying this story, please drop a kudos! Also leave a comment to let me know your thoughts as you read the story! I love hearing from my readers!!!


	20. Cold Sweat

Jongdae walked the whole way home with a stupid grin on his face. He couldn’t deny it any more... He had friends. No matter how much he nagged himself that he couldn’t let anyone in too close, that it was too dangerous, something inside him warmed at the prospect, and he couldn’t bear to push it away.

It was dark by the time Jongdae made it home, though he was pleased to see the house was dark and quiet, with no signs of life. He walked in, discarding his backpack and shoes by the door, pulling his hoodie off as he went.

“What’s the smile for, brat?” a quiet voice growled from the darkness, slurring significantly. Jongdae froze, the slight grin wiping off his face immediately, his blood running cold. He had assumed his father wasn’t home, but there the brute was, sitting on the couch in the dark, eyes piercing him.

“N-n-nothing… I w-wasn’t smiling,” Jongdae spluttered, eyes averted. The man stood up from the couch slowly, causing the pile of empty beer bottles next to him to clatter to the floor. The man teetered in place, reeling, before he stumbled over to the trembling boy.

Jongdae curled his shoulders defensively but didn’t dare move. The man towered over him, his boozy breath ruffling the hairs at the back of Jongdae’s neck.

“Always lying… Just like your damn mother,” he slurred before turning and stomping away. “I always hated that bitch.” He spat on the floor before collapsing back down on the couch and opening another beer.

Jongdae just stood there, still hunched over, not daring to move an inch. After what felt like an hour but was probably only a matter of minutes, his father’s glazed eyes wandered to him again, and he snarled, “What are you still doing there? Get out of my sight.”

Jongdae flinched but wasted no time scurrying to his room. After softly clicking the door shut, he turned, pressing his back against it before sliding to the floor. He rested his head against his knees and gulped down deep shaking breaths as cold sweat ran down his back.

That was close. Too close. Jongdae was pretty sure the only reason he had escaped a beating was because his father was drunk enough to have become sluggish. He only prayed that the man wouldn’t remember the encounter when he sobered up.

Jongdae probably sat there for a couple hours, listening to his own breathing— _in, out, in, out_ —tensing up every time he heard the sound of a bottle clinking or the couch creaking from the living room. By the time the low rumble of snoring permeated across the small abode, Jongdae’s muscles ached from being in the same position for so long.

Finally, Jongdae stood up, bones cracking as he did. He ambled over to his mattress and slumped down, suddenly exhausted. Glancing at his clock, he saw it was 3 AM. His backpack with all his homework was still in the kitchen, but Jongdae didn’t dare go out there.

With a resounding sign, Jongdae set his alarm and curled up on his mattress. He’d wake up and leave early and finish his work at school.

* * *

It felt like he had only just closed his eyes when the beeping of the clock ripped him from his slumber. Groaning, Jongdae hurriedly silenced it and paused, listening for footsteps, though he was pretty sure his father was too drunk for the sound to have woken him up. As suspected, Jongdae only heard deep snoring through the thin walls, and with a sigh, he rolled off the mattress to get ready for school.

He walked through the school gates just after 6 AM, shivering fiercely, fingers slightly blue. Thankfully, the doors were already unlocked, and Jongdae made his way to the library, settling in at a table right in front of the radiator. He had done some of his work during study hour the day before and managed to finish up the last of it about 15 minutes before his first class started.

Rubbing his eyes, though carefully enough not to disturb any of the makeup on his face, Jongdae packed his bag and made his way to the bathroom, hoping to freshen up his appearance slightly before class began. He dropped his bag on the tiled floor and folded his jacket neatly on top, glancing up at the mirror as he did so.

He looked like shit, to put it plainly. After only an hour of sleep, he didn’t exactly expect to look like Sleeping Beauty anyway. He turned on the sink and used some water to try and tame his hair and make it all go the same direction when the door opened, and four figures walked in.

Shit… Jongdae should have checked to make sure the coast was clear before secluding himself like this, but he was tired, and his brain wasn’t working quite right. Tao lingered by the door, keeping guard, while Dongsuk, Minchul, and Ilsung slunk towards him.

“You look like shit,” Dongsuk observed.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Jongdae replied wearily. He knew talking back wasn’t going to help his case, but he couldn’t help it at this point. Could he not just catch a break for once?

“I’d shut it if I were you,” Ilsung replied.

“As if keeping my mouth shut would make you leave me alone,” Jongdae snapped.

“Ha, he’s got you there, Ilsung,” Tao smirked from the corner.

“Well maybe we think you need to learn some manners,” Minchul sneered, grabbing Jongdae by his shirt collar shoving him against the wall. Jongdae hit the edge of the paper towel dispenser, grimacing as it dug into the cuts on his back. They had healed enough that he no longer wrapped them in bandages, but some of the deeper ones had yet to heal over completely.

Minchul grabbed Jongdae again, shoving him towards Ilsung, who threw him on the ground before delivering a sharp kick to the boy’s side. Jongdae tried to scramble away, but Ilsung wrestled him into a head lock that he couldn’t escape no matter how hard he pulled. In all the chaos, Jongdae’s shirt rode up slightly, exposing a couple inches of battered flesh.

To his dismay, Jongdae felt air on his uncovered skin and desperately scrambled to pull the edge of his shirt back down, but too late, Dongsuk had already noticed.

“What’s this?” the tall boy asked, pulling Jongdae’s shirt up a little higher while Ilsung dragged Jongdae to his knees. Jongdae glanced in the mirror in horror. Bruised skin greeted him in the reflection, all shades of purple, green, and yellow. But even worse were the scars: jagged lines of pink and white crisscrossing his back, bisecting the long burn scar that cut across his shoulders ever since that fire so many years ago. The bruises, they could have assumed were all from them, but the scars… Those had to have come from someone else.

Jongdae felt Ilsung’s grip loosen slightly in response to the sight, and Jongdae took the opportunity to yank himself free, pulling the hem of his shirt down as he stood up. Backing away, Jongdae grabbed his blazer and bag.

“Looks like you’ve been playing someone else’s punching bag, huh, Jongdae?” Dongsuk said, eyeing the boy with a slight smirk. Jongdae didn’t respond and just edged his way around to the door. Minchul stepped forward to stop him, but Dongsuk held a hand out.

Jongdae pushed past Tao, who simply stepped back, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape. Jongdae ducked his head as he pushed out the door and hurried down the hall. Only once he was far away from the bathroom did he pause to straighten his shirt and put his school blazer on. Only one panicked thought burned in Jongdae’s mind: _My secret is out_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all! Thanks for your continued support! 
> 
> As always, please leave a comment below letting me your thoughts, and if you like this story, go ahead and drop a kudos!
> 
> Thanks! <3


	21. Confrontations

Jongdae spend the entire day distracted. He merely stared out space while his teachers lectured, pen clutched in his white-knuckled hand, hovering over a blank page in his notebook. He couldn’t focus. His thoughts simply chased themselves in circles down an ever-spiraling hole, plunging deeper and deeper into panic.

He spent the whole day avoiding his friends. He wasn’t convinced that he’d be able to put on a normal face for them. Between classes, he walked around in a hollow daze, scared that every person approaching him was Junmyeon or Kyungsoo or… or even worse, Dongsuk.

Finally, the last class crawled to the end of a torturous day, and Jongdae rushed to his locker to pack up his things. All he had to do was get out of there, and everything would be okay. That was what he kept telling himself, repeating the mantra over and over again in his head. He hurriedly zipped his backpack, closing his locker door a little too loudly, startling himself, before shuffling quickly towards the doors.

“Jongdae!” he heard a voice call behind him. It sounded like Minseok. _Shit._ Jongdae kept walking, head ducked, pretending not to hear. “Yah, Jongdae! Slow down!” the voice said, closer now. A hand took his arm and pulled him aside, and Jongdae found himself face to face with Minseok. “Jongdae! None of us haven’t seen you all day! I was calling for you!”

“Oh, sorry, Min! I must just be a little distracted today,” Jongdae replied, forcing a smile onto his face. Enough people had learned his secret for today. Minseok’s face pulled into a slight frown, studying Jongdae carefully.

“Are you okay?” he asked, brown furrowed.

“Of course!” Jongdae replied, but he could tell the other was not convinced. “Like I said, I’m just a little distracted today. Busy day!”

Minseok looked like he was about to ask another question when Chanyeol sauntered up to them. “Yah! Jongdae! How’s it going? I haven’t seen you yet today!”

“Hi, Chanyeol,” Jongdae said as cheerily as he could muster while avoiding eye contact with Minseok, who was still eying him carefully. “Listen, I have to go. I work at that coffee shop a couple blocks away, and my shift is starting soon.” And with that, Jongdae extricated himself from under Chanyeol’s arm and left before the other two could say anything. He could feel Minseok’s eyes burning into the back of his head as he walked away.

* * *

Jongdae lay on his mattress that night, staring at the ceiling, bloodshot eyes peeled open. Until that day, there were only two people in the whole world who knew about his bruises and scars: Jongdae himself, and his dad.

But today, that number spiked to six. Added to the list were his four worst enemies other than his father: Shin Dongsuk, Kang Minchul, Yoo Ilsung, and Huang Zitao. Jongdae could not imagine a worse possible position to be in. No one outside his family had ever learned of his secret, and the abrupt reveal left Jongdae shaking for hours.

He had no idea what Dongsuk and his cronies would do with that information. Tao’s expression in that moment was still etched in his mind; painted white with shock, tinted with a glimmer of something else… fear? He wasn’t sure. But what he couldn’t shake even more was the lack of expression on Dongsuk’s face. He was completely unreadable, which scared Jongdae more than anything because it meant that he had no idea what Dongsuk would do with this information.

* * *

Over the following weeks, Jongdae tried his best to avoid Dongsuk and the others, with varying degrees of success. While the beatings they gave him remained just as harsh and their words stung, it became clear that they weren’t going to tell anyone what they saw for now. They wanted to be more tactful than that, threatening to spill the beans if Jongdae didn’t cooperate. Whenever they did find them, Jongdae would merely submit and wait for it to be over. He couldn’t risk doing anything else. Tao was conspicuously silent during their encounters, holding back his characteristic comments of scathing degradation. While Tao always used to sit on the sidelines, preferring words over fists, he seemed more uncomfortable being there now, and after a while, Tao stopped showing up all together.

It took a few days after the incident for Jongdae to pull himself together enough that he could act normally around his friends. They didn’t seem to notice anything off about him. Or perhaps they just weren’t saying anything about it. Only Minseok seemed to be acting differently towards him. While the boy didn’t outright confront him, Jongdae would often turn to find that Minseok had been watching him closely, deep in thought. Despite his best efforts to conceal everything, Jongdae knew that he let the occasional wince slip when he moved the wrong way, and he was fairly certain that Minseok was taking notice.

His fears were confirmed not long after. They were all lounging in the library, books and papers strewn everywhere, waiting for the last period to end. Sehun and Kai had given up all semblance of studying and were just gossiping quietly, occasionally bursting out in laughter, earning them dirty looks from both Junmyeon and the librarian. Baekhyun sat complaining about an upcoming exam to Kyungsoo, who merely kept rolling his eyes at the other and telling him to study. Luhan played a game on his phone while Chanyeol watched over his shoulder. Finally, Jongdae shut his book, unable to look at the page on second longer and said, “I’ve got to head to work. I’ll see you guys later.” He packed his things, checking to make sure his work uniform was still in there too.

While the others bid their farewells to Jongdae, Minseok hopped up, “Wait up, I’m actually headed out too.” Jongdae begrudgingly waited for the elder to pack his bag, and the two walked out of the library into the empty hall together. They made their way silently down the sidewalk as Jongdae lead them towards the coffee shop, Minseok clearly just following his direction, unbothered about where they were going.

“So are you gonna tell me what’s going on?” he spoke softly.

“What do you mean?” Jongdae tried to ask innocently.

“Come on, Dae. Two weeks ago when I caught you at the end of the day, you looked like you had seen a ghost. And when you left, you practically ran away from us. Even Chanyeol thought you were acting a bit weird. Then you spent four days avoiding everyone. What happened?”

“It’s nothing. There was just a lot going on that week, that’s all. It’s over now, so nothing to worry about.” Jongdae attempted to keep his voice casual.

“So there’s nothing going on with you?” Minseok asked, unreadable.

“I’m fine, Min.”

“Then why do you keep wincing like you’re hurt?”

And there it was. _Damn it_ , Jongdae thought to himself. He knew the other had noticed, but he was still in a little bit of denial.

“Do I?” Jongdae asked, trying to laugh it off. “I didn’t think it was that bad. I’m just really sore. My dad and I have been helping his sister move because she can’t afford to hire people to do it, so I’ve been hauling boxes and furniture back and forth and it’s really doing my muscles in. I didn’t realize I was so out of shape!” Jongdae had planned his backstory already, on the off chance that he was confronted. Minseok looked like he still didn’t believe it, but they had arrived at the coffee shop. “Wish I could chat more, but I’ve got to get changed before my shift starts. I’ll see you later, Min!” and with that, Jongdae ducked in through the back door of the shop, not giving the other a chance to reply.

Jongdae walked through the coffee shop, changed into his work clothes, and took his place behind the counter. He fell into the mechanical routine of making coffee; push a button, pour, scoop, wipe down, clean, empty—monotonous task after monotonous task to match the buzz of chatter around him. Normally, he rather enjoyed work, with the refreshing smell of coffee and the lively atmosphere around him, but today he was distracted by the conversation with Minseok. He knew he hadn’t convinced the other, and he had a feeling he hadn’t heard the end of it. Jongdae felt the last several weeks taking their toll on him. His bloodshot eyes burned with fatigue, eyelids drooping lower and lower, torso sore and aching, feet throbbing, stomach twisting and clenching, writhing at the smell of fresh pastries within his reach but outside his budget. Jongdae’s hands were moving, but his brain was asleep, numb to the outside world. Luckily, his coworker, Sarge, wasn’t one for small talk either.

Jongdae was abruptly shaken from his stupor when the manager walked up to him. _Shit_ , thought Jongdae. _I wasn’t paying attention. What did I screw up?_

“Jongdae,” the middle-aged man began. “I’d like to you to meet our newest employee.” Jongdae sighed in relief, realizing he wasn’t about to get fired. The sigh got caught in his throat, however, when Jongdae saw a certain platinum-blond-haired boy standing just behind his manager.

It was Tao.

“This is Tao. Tao, this is Jongdae. He’s going to show you the ropes. Let me know if you need anything else.” And with that, their manager left.

Jongdae and Tao stood awkwardly for a moment, Jongdae frozen in place, nervous; Tao looking just as uncomfortable.

“Hey,” Tao said self-consciously, breaking the silence between them. Jongdae cleared his throat hastily and started shuffling around, tidying up this, wiping down that. “Look, Jong—,” Tao began.

“Let’s start with the machines, then I’ll show you how to run the register,” Jongdae interrupted tensely. Tao just looked down slightly and nodded before following. Jongdae showed him how to work all the machines and clean them properly in between uses and such. By the time Jongdae had finished up the tour, ending in the back room, his shift was almost over.

“Okay, I think that’s it. Do you have any questions?” Jongdae asked apprehensively.

“No, I don’t think so, but—" Tao said, but Jongdae was already in motion, grabbing his bag and heading to the door. Before he could slip past, Tao grabbed his arm. “Jongdae,” he said, causing the other to reflexively tense up in fear. “I’m… I just wanted to say that I’m sorry.”

There was a pause in which neither boy moved for a matter of seconds before Jongdae gave a stiff nod and made for the door again. Tao let Jongdae’s arm slip through his fingers and watched as the other boy hurriedly slipped out the door into the dark, snowy street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all!
> 
> As always, thank you for reading!!!! If you like this work, please drop a kudos! And leave a comment below letting me know your thoughts! I love hearing from my readers!!!


	22. Not Alone

[ ](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/86/9c/d5/869cd5f4a33ae891af1e7a6419b1edb6.gif)

Jongdae sat on his mattress staring at his shaking hands. His tremor had gotten worse over the last couple weeks. It was late, but he barely felt the tug of sleep pulling at his wide eyes.

Tao had… actually apologized. Jongdae could only remember one similar experience.

_It was late. Jongdae wasn’t even sure what time it was, but he knew he should be in bed. He had spent all evening arranging the last of their meager possessions among their new excuse for a house in the slums. Suddenly, the door slammed open and his drunken father tumbled in. Jongdae was surprised that it managed to stay on its flimsy hinges through the ordeal._

_The man could hardly walk, and he fell to the floor before he even made it to the couch, breaking the half-empty bottle in his hand with a grunt in the process. “Shit,” the man slurred, not even noticing his son’s stare as he tried and failed to sit up, opting to wave his hands around instead._

_Jongdae sighed and walked over to him, crouching to gently scoop up the shattered glass before the man hurt himself, depositing it in the bin. He returned to his dad’s side and grabbed his arm, pulling it over his shoulder. “Come on, Appa,” he said tiredly, attempting to hoist the man twice his size onto his feet. With great effort and some low-level cooperation from his father, Jongdae managed to drag him onto the couch. Jongdae returned with a bottle of water, which was accepted with a low grumble. Those glassy eyes shifted focus, as if the man was seeing his son for the first time._

_“You’re too nice for your own good, kid, you know that? Sticking around for your old man no matter what I put ya through,” his dad slurred._

_“Go to sleep, Appa,” Jongdae returned wearily._

_“Must be that good ole’ Kim stubbornness… Must have gotten it from me…” the man mused as he drifted out again. Jongdae stood, simply staring at his father, not knowing what to make of his remarks, before dragging his feet to bed._

It had been five and a half years since that night, but today the memory had been dragged to the forefront of Jongdae’s mind. The two moments played in his head in tandem, over and over and over again.

Jongdae didn’t sleep that night.

* * *

Jongdae felt like death warmed over when he walked through the school gates. He could hardly keep his eyes open as he slumped down into his homeroom desk. Chanyeol chatted his ear off about some movie he had seen last weekend, supplied by the gentle nods and occasional grunts of affirmation that the half-sleeping boy gave him. Jongdae kept his head down during class, trying and failing to keep his mind focused on the lecture. When class ended, he simply let Chanyeol steer him to their next class, which they also conveniently shared.

His friends noted the dark circles under his eyes and took pity on him, letting him just sit quietly at the edge of the circle for once, not asking him anything. Jongdae was pretty sure he fell asleep with his head resting on Luhan’s shoulder at some point. He had a shift at the movie theater that evening, but luckily, there weren’t many customers on a weeknight. By the time he got home that night, he merely stashed his paycheck away where his father wouldn’t find it, collapsed onto his bed, and went straight to sleep.

* * *

The next day passed nearly as uneventfully. Jongdae had managed to duck past Dongsuk, Minchul, and Ilsung unnoticed. He did run into Tao, who merely averted his eyes from the other boy and slunk past him wordlessly. To Jongdae's relief, they typically ended up working different shifts at the café. Jongdae’s friends were pleased to see that he was looking more rested and returned to their usual antics, passing off the day before as a fluke. Oddly, things were beginning to feel normal again.

The boys headed out of the school gates together, discussing where they were going to hang out after school as Jongdae tried to peel himself off nonchalantly from the group.

“Ya, Jongdae! Aren’t you gonna stay and hang out?” Chanyeol called.

“I can’t. I’ve got work,” Jongdae shrugged.

“Aww, you never get to hang out, Dae!” Baekhyun lamented. Kyungsoo rolled his eyes, earning him a smack on the shoulder from Baekhyun, who quickly cowered behind Chanyeol as the red-haired boy threatened to slap him back.

“Why don’t we just come with you?” suggested Junmyeon. “We can study there.”

“Sure, we’ll _study_ ,” Sehun replied.

“I won’t really be able to hang out guys. I’ve gotta focus on my job,” Jongdae said warily.

“We’ll make sure we don’t distract you, don’t worry!” Minseok reassured, waiting until he got a hesitant go-ahead from Jongdae. “Besides, I love coffee!”

“ _BLEH!_ Coffee,” Jongin scowled, earning a laugh from the others.

“Don’t worry, Jongin, we’ve got other stuff there too,” Jongdae reassured him before having to focus on his attention to Sehun, who had promptly inquired about bubble tea as they walked.

* * *

Having the others over while he worked was actually… kind of nice. True to Minseok’s word, they let him get on with his job, but made sure to joke with him every time he passed by their table. Jongdae found himself smiling as he cleaned the machines, listening to Chanyeol tell stories across the coffee bar. He could get used to this.

Evening bled into night and the number of customers dwindled, his friends having to bid goodbye one by one until it was just his coworker Sarge, Luhan, Baekhyun, and Sehun left inside the cozy café. Yifan and Yixing walked in, undoubtedly there to pick up Luhan, and joined the boys at the table as Jongdae helped Sarge shut down the machines.

“You go on. I’ll close up shop,” Sarge said to him. Jongdae thanked him and bid him goodnight before grabbing his things and walking towards the table of his friends.

“Done for the night?” Yixing asked him with a smile, eying the boy up and down, clearly looking for any sign that Jongdae was anything less than well. The two older Chinese boys had asked Luhan to keep them updated on Jongdae after their first encounter, and while they still worried about him, they knew his group of friends would look out for him.

“Come on. It’s dark and cold out. I’ll drive you all home,” Yifan said with a smile, meeting Jongdae’s eyes reassuringly as Baekhyun and Sehun thanked him.

They all piled into the car. Thankfully, Yifan dropped everyone off before Jongdae. He even made sure to pass his own apartment first and usher Luhan out, insisting that the boy had spent long enough with his friends and had to get working on his homework.

To Jongdae’s relief, Yifan didn’t interrogate him on his well-being the moment they were alone. Jongdae simply told Yifan that he was doing well, and the elder believed him before moving on in the conversation. And for once, there was some truth to Jongdae’s answer. Sure, there were still a lot of things wrong in his life, but for once, he didn’t feel alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Drop a kudos if you like this story!
> 
> And for those who have commented, thank you for your support and feedback! I hope to hear from more of you soon!


	23. Complacent

To Jongdae’s great surprise, he found his life turning upwards over the following weeks. His friends continued to look out for him, shielding him away from the brunt of Dongsuk, Minchul, and Ilsung’s ire. It didn’t escape Jongdae’s notice that they traveled in groups practically everywhere while within the school’s grounds, drastically reducing the chances that Jongdae would be caught alone with the bullies.

His friends also started coming with him regularly to the coffee shop, and it became their usual hangout place, even on his days off. Jongdae normally never stayed out just for fun, but the extra time away from home meant less time around his father. He found his bruises were actually fading sometimes.

Plus, he kind of liked just hanging out for the sake of hanging out.

The boys had made a point of coming with him to work ever since they realized that Jongdae never was able to stay after school. They wanted to include him. And Jongdae realized that, for once, he wanted to be included. He had never been embraced so warmly and unconditionally by people as he had by them. They didn’t care when he was tired or quiet. They were just happy that he was there in the first place.

Jongdae found himself grinning as he slogged home to the thought, comforted by the idea that maybe, just maybe, one small part of his life was normal.

A shout greeted him as he closed the front door, instantly wiping the smile off his face, making his blood run cold. “You insolent little shit.”

Paling, Jongdae turned around and saw his father standing in the kitchen, fuming with rage. A pile of money sat scattered across the counter. To Jongdae’s horror, he spotted the box he had been using to stash his extra savings in cast away on the floor.

_Shit_. His father had found his stockpile. The money from his extra job that he had been saving for months, that he had been lying about so that he could actually afford their continued survival, had been discovered. He knew his father searched through his things occasionally, but he had thought he hid the box well enough. He had miscalculated.

“You go sneaking around behind my back and think you can just get away with it!?” his father screamed, his face beet red with rage. Jongdae’s throat closed in terror, too afraid to utter a word. “You think I wouldn’t find out!? You think I haven’t noticed you staying out more and more?” The boy shrunk back into the wall as his father stormed towards him.

“A-a-ap-pa, I’m sorry!” he cowered as his father’s hand connected with his cheek, the slap sending him to the floor. “I’m sorry I hid it, but we need that money! We won’t make it through winter if you spend it!”

His father growled in response, kicking the boy’s back repeatedly as the latter curled in on himself. The man grabbed Jongdae by the hair, lifting him up before throwing him towards the table, knocking it over. He continued to throw the boy around the place they called home, ignoring the quiet whimpers and pleas that begged for forgiveness. Their cheap furniture broke under the weight of Jongdae’s body being thrown into them, and his father only used the discarded pieces as weapons. Jongdae felt his skin split open as the rough wood struck him, and his ankle exploded in pain with a sickening _crack_ after a particularly forceful attack.

Finally deciding he’d had enough, Jongdae’s father crouched over his son, knee digging painfully into the sobbing boy’s chest. The man lowered his voice to a whisper, hissing through his teeth, “You should be damn grateful that I even let you sleep under this roof. And this is how you repay me?”

“I’m sorry,” Jongdae could only repeat with a shuddering breath, hands attempting to shield his face from the anticipated onslaught. His father’s face curled with wrath, vexed at hearing the same phrase echoed at him over and over.

“Get out,” he spat. “GET OUT!” he roared after the petrified boy failed to move. Jongdae scrambled backwards, climbing to his feet, his ankle buckling under him as he tried to put weight on it, but he couldn’t stop. Not while his father was hurling bottles at him, screaming for him to leave. Jongdae hobbled out the door as quickly as he could, his father’s voice bellowing after him from the threshold until he had left the slums. He watched makeshift curtains twitch as he passed, but no one left their shacks to approach him. Everyone’s business was their own in Guryong.

It was cold tonight. Too cold for most people to justify leaving the house. Jongdae hardly felt it through his hoodie. Or maybe he just didn’t care enough to notice it as the world’s weight settled on his shoulders.

He had been so close. He had nearly saved enough to buy a cheap jacket, anything to drive the chill away as winter began to descend over Seoul. He was able to pay the bills, ready to even splurge on the electricity for the space heater every once in a while. Hell, he was actually _eating_ sometimes, and more than just plain rice…

And now it was all gone… He knew his father. That money would be spent by the end of the week. Probably by the end of the night if Jongdae was honest with himself. It seemed that the angrier the man got, the more he toiled away, basking in the sins of life. His father’s habits were a distraction, luring his attention away from their problems until he no longer cared how they got by, how they’d fill their stomachs or warm their beds. That was someone else’s problem to figure out. The issue was, Jongdae was the only “someone else” his father had.

He had gotten too comfortable, too relaxed. The semblance of normalcy at school easing him into complacency. He should have been more careful, shouldn’t have gotten distracted. And now it was too late.

He wouldn’t make the same mistake again. Not if he survived this one, that is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading all! Please leave a comment below, and if you like this story, drop a kudos!!! Thank you!


	24. Confession

Jongdae wrapped his arms more tightly around himself, shuddering as a gust of icy wind trailed a harsh finger down his neck, seeping into his bones. His ankle would have hurt a lot more, but the cold numbed it to an angry throb. His shadow looked eerie and distorted, stretched tall and thin, morphing as he limped past each streetlamp.

He didn’t really know where he was going. He only knew he couldn’t go back to that house tonight.

After an hour or so of wandering through the dark streets of Seoul, only passing a few other night souls who understood well enough to leave each other to their own thoughts, Jongdae found himself limping through a park. It was as good of a place as any to settle down and try not to freeze to death. He continued down the path, unfocusedly searching for a spot to sleep, mind wandering to places far away when a voice jerked him back to reality.

“… Jongdae?”

The boy froze, not daring to turn around, hoping that it had been his imagination. Who the hell would he know that’s wandering out here at three in the morning?

“Jongdae?” The voice behind him said again, with slightly more certainty. Jongdae turned, eyes falling on a huddled figure on a bench. It was Tao, sporting what looked like a fresh black eye, arms wrapped tightly around a sleeping kid. “What are you doing here?” Tao warily asked.

“I could ask the same of you,” Jongdae replied, eying the child in Tao’s lap. The platinum-haired boy ducked his head when Jongdae’s gaze moved up to his injured eye. “What happened?” Jongdae said, nodding to it.

“You’re one to talk,” the boy bit back, gesturing to Jongdae’s bruised face, but his shoulders curled in defensively and he wouldn’t meet Jongdae’s eyes. Silence passed between them, each waiting for the other to speak as snow started to drift gently down around them.

Finally, Tao spoke. “The bruises on your face… They came from the same person who gave you those scars on your back, didn’t they?” Jongdae drew in a sharp breath, but Tao didn’t break his stare. Finally, Jongdae caved in, eyes cast sideways as he gave a stiff nod. Tao said nothing but tilted his chin towards the space on the bench next to him. Jongdae didn’t move. “Oh, come on, I saw you limping. Just sit before that leg gives in on you,” Tao sighed.

After a moment’s hesitation, Jongdae let out a resigned breath and sat down. They didn’t look at each other.

“Who?” Tao asked.

“… My dad…” Jongdae finally murmured. He had never said it out loud before.

“How long?”

Jongdae shook his head. “Your turn.”

Tao stared at the pavement and didn’t speak. For a minute, Jongdae didn’t think he was going to, but finally the boy gave a weary shake of the head before confessing, “My uncle. We had to move in with him after my dad left and took everything with him. When he gets drunk, he gets a little too rough with my mom. Sometimes I can get him to fuck off, but sometimes he’s too out of it, and that’s when I get my brother out of the way before he gets a slap too. My uncle doesn’t like it when he cries…”

Jongdae looked at the slumbering boy. He looked peaceful, leaning into his sibling for warmth, oblivious to the harsh world that settled around him like snow, too innocent to know that sleeping in the park with his big brother wasn’t a great big adventure.

“I keep telling my mom that it’s not worth staying around. I keep telling her that I can work and get through school,” Tao continued, unfocused eyes trained on his feet. “Between the two of us working, we could make it. Her Korean isn’t very good, and she dropped out of school before graduating, so it’s hard for her to find a good job. She doesn’t want to leave and try managing on our own because she’s afraid I’ll do the same thing… But what’s the point if you don’t even try to fight back? If you don’t even want to help yourself, then why should anyone else bother?”

Tao took a long pause before finally turning to look at Jongdae. “Why don’t you fight back? There were a couple times you got close and stood your ground for a moment, but that day on the basketball court, you just sat there and took it. Why?”

“Yeah, I stood my ground a few times and what did I get from it? A punch in the face,” Jongdae said with a bitter laugh, looking Tao straight in the eye. “You think I’ve never tried fighting back? You think it would make any difference? It usually just makes things worse. You know, last time I tried raising a hand against my dad, I almost didn’t wake up again. I was in and out of consciousness for four days. I couldn’t stand up for a week...”

Jongdae let out a resentful breath, watching as the frozen mist dissipated into nothingness. “Besides… throwing a punch isn’t the only way to resist. I fight back just by getting back on my feet and moving forward. I’m doing everything I can just to make it to next month, let alone get away and end it for good. I’ve been hiding a third job and a tutoring gig at school from my dad just so to be able to buy a coat before winter rather than watch him blow the whole budget on hookers and booze. I had enough to buy a real meal every other day. Hell, I could even pay the bills on time... Things were finally turning up for once, and you know what?... He found out... He found the extra cash, and he’s gonna blow it all. So I don’t know what happens now... Everywhere I turn, I’m freezing, starving, getting beaten within an inch of my life, and I’m just scrambling to hold it all together and keep pushing through until the next thing hits me. So don’t you dare suggest that I’m not doing enough to help myself, because I’m doing everything I can manage right now... Throwing a punch won’t help me at this point,” Jongdae hissed, his voice shaking with frustration and desperation.

Things were bad. He was sitting, shivering and exhausted, on a park bench in the middle of the night with no money and an empty stomach, covered in blood and bruises, for fuck’s sake. Yeah, things were completely shit. But to admit it out loud to someone for the first time ever took a fraction of the weight off his shoulders.

Neither boy spoke for a long time. They just sat, side by side, watching white flakes flutter down and dissolve on the ground.

“I’m sorry,” Tao finally broke the silence. “For everything.”

“Sorry makes us all feel better, but it doesn’t actually solve much. You just have to get back up and move on.”

“You’ve got that right, at least,” Tao hollowly laughed, letting the sound drop down to a sobered sigh. “It’s a shitty world sometimes, isn’t it?”

“Damn right it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! I'm particularly fond of this one :)
> 
> As always, please drop a kudos if you like this story, and leave me a comment below! 
> 
> Thank you for your support!


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